On Love and Fear
by BMBR
Summary: This is an ongoing story that started as a fix-it fic. Some things are canon and others are not. It has plot and angst and fluff.
1. Gone, Gone, Gone

Just like that, he was gone. The very next day, apparently off to Chicago, on the first available flight, leaving her to pick up the pieces his sudden absence caused. No explanation given to the partners, only she knew why. She had walked away from him after the kiss, had left him standing in her office, uninterested in what he had to say. They had done this too many times, falling right in the exhausting predictable pattern: it started with a look, a touch, even a jealous comment, all threats that dared to hinder their perfect arrangement. Then she yelled, pressed him for answers or confessions, or simply an honest conversation, and every single time he denied her, ran from her, left her wondering. Like a freight train at the end of a route, they always stopped right on the tracks, stood on the line, never moving past the finish line. Never past the breaking point, from there...only backwards. His actions were so foreseeable that _the bastard might as well patent the move,_ she thought _, running away like a stray dog that bites and flees with the steak_.

She knew exactly why he left.

Others didn't.

"You're the COO of this firm, Donna, how is the managing partner gone for undetermined time and you don't know WHY?" Louis yelled, indignant with Harvey's unexcused exit.

"I don't know what else to tell you, Louis." She responded, trying her best to keep her own thoughts in order.

"You're covering for him because it's something big, isn't it? He's planning something big with Jessica and they're leaving me out of it, aren't they?" Louis continued pressing.

"Louis, for the last time, I do _not_ know why he went to Chicago. And don't even go there, you're always thinking they're plotting against you!"

"Oh my God… it's a merger!" He whispered, panic across his face. "Donna, they're going to merge and we're gonna be kicked out of here! it's so obvious!" he added, completely ignoring her.

This time she actually looked up at Louis, knowing she needed to dismiss that idea as fast as he had voiced it.

"Louis…" she said calmly, as if talking to a child holding a porcelain vase, "they'd never do that, okay? They are not merging. Harvey would never go behind our backs like that."

"Maybe not behind your back" he pouted, "but he'd definitely do it to me!" assertive as always, with some truth to it. "Well have you called him? Did you reach Jessica? 'cause I haven't been able to reach her either!"

"Yes, Louis," she replied quickly, "he said he was in Chicago for a few days. That was all."

A necessary lie. She knew Jessica wouldn't reply, Harvey must have asked her to dodge any calls. Donna hadn't actually called him, considering she had woken up to a 5 AM text that read "Heading to Chicago for a few days. Call me only if it's a business emergency."

It had taken her a lot of breathing exercises to not throw her brand new iphone out the window, to not respond in all caps with foul language or call and scream what he deserved to hear. No, she was _not_ going to get caught in the same decade old game.

"That doesn't make any sense, Harvey tells you everything. I can't understand how you don't know this? Do you not care? How did we not get notice of this? Why won't he answer my calls, Donna? Why?" he paced around her office.

Her veins pulsed on her temples, the headache making itself extremely noticeable. It was like the Spanish inquisition, his questions shot at her, and this was the worse moment to be berated about Harvey. "Louis, that's enough!" she finally said, raising her voice, forcing him to stop and stare at her. "I don't know why he's there, or why he's not answering you, but you have to trust him that he is a responsible partner and things will be fine. Now please just go cover for him with the new client and if you can convince him that they don't need Harvey, the client is yours. Now for the love of Hamlet, let me work?!" she pleaded.

As he angrily walked out of her office, Donna pressed her fingers to her temples, letting out a loud sigh. It was going to be a long day.

At 7 PM, the pile of papers in front of her confirmed her night wasn't nearly finished. The morning and part of the afternoon had been filled by successfully controlling Louis's temper, managing dozens of phone calls and emails and answering a few questions from clients about Harvey's whereabouts, buying herself time with certain important decisions, taking responsibilities with others, and in the evening Donna felt like the day would never end. It didn't matter that she anticipated his behavior, she grew angrier at him by the hour. As she poured herself a glass of Macallan and pulled out a gray Montblanc pix, Mike's voice made her look up from the folder on her desk.

"Careful with that, pretty sure that's illegal." He said, leaning against her door frame.

"I'm flattered, Mike, but unless the legal drinking age is 30 now, I should be fine." she joked, twirling the ice in the glass.

Mike chuckled. "I meant signing his name on the documents. I can tell by the pen you're using. His signature is pretty hard, but you're Donna." He spoke as he walked closer to her desk, watching over to see her perfectly imitate Harvey's handwriting.

"13 years of practice," she smiled, "I'm probably more convincing than he is at this point. Drink?"

"Nah," he waved his hand dismissively, "Rachel is waiting. I just came to say bye."

Donna smiled and leaned back on her chair, watching him suspiciously.

"No," she said, narrowing her look " you came to tell me you spoke to him."

Mike dropped his shoulders and sighed loudly.

"What's happening, Donna?"

"Nothing's happening, Mike." She answered quickly, without hesitation. But it only took a second for her to realize that a quick response wouldn't get Mike to believe her more, she figured by his frown.

"Bullshit." A blunt accusation right out of his mouth. How could this kid get even more pretentious? She wouldn't have it.

" Excuse me?" she stood up, taking the accusation a little bit more serious than he had imagined she would.

"You're signing paperwork with his signature because you don't know when he's coming back and you don't want to jeopardize any agreement," she looked down as he spoke, this time avoiding his look. Mike continued, "Harvey was totally out of it on the phone, it was hard to keep a conversation and you just got super defensive. Plus you're even drinking his whisky."

It was hard to understand how Harvey and Mike worked so well together, one being so clueless at reading people's emotions and the other being so annoyingly good at it. He was almost as good as...her.

"What do you mean... totally out?" she asked, concerned spread all over her face.

"I don't know, he was just unfocused and when I mentioned your name he came up with a crappy excuse and said he had to go, not to mention _you'_ ve been locked in here the whole day, you gave his client to Louis…"

"I didn't exactly give.."

"Donna...come...on!" Mike said, announcing every word as he called her out. "It doesn't take much to realize something happened." Maybe she wasn't as good of an actress as she thought. Or she had taught him well. "But if you don't want to tell me, fine, just answer me this: Is it business...or is it personal?" he blurted out, knowing he didn't have much time to get something out of her. "Because for the first, as a partner, I have the right to know. For the latter, as your friend, I'd _like_ to know... so I can kill him." He said, smiling shyly.

The sweetness in Mike's intentions were hard to ignore, but the dread of discussing Harvey with him was still too powerful to just cease. Donna softened her look and walked closer to him, returning her empty glass to the drink cart and replying dryly: "I do appreciate your concern, Mike, but why don't you ask him the same question?" She challenged him, hoping to set him on his way.

"Who says I didn't?" Mike debuted, a grin on his face all too familiar to her. She turned away from him and started walking back to her desk, but wasn't able to resist the urge to hear what Harvey's answer had been. "And…?" She said, turning her ear slightly towards Mike's voice.

Mike took a few steps backwards to the door, finally answering her after a pause.

"He said it's never just business with you."

He walked away watching her as she stood, looking out her office window.


	2. Say Press Run Repeat

It wasn't actually hard to understand how Harvey and Mike worked so well together. _It wasn't hard at all_ , she revisited her thought of earlier that evening. _That damn kid_ , she cursed, as she opened the door to her place, immediately bending down to take off her shoes. Mike had gone to her office to deliver that last line, she knew. "It's never just business with you" was such a Harvey sentence that says so much and says nothing at all. _Coward!_ But this time she was determined to do it differently, to not fall on the same pattern as before.

She had decided, it was settled.

 _So come back, don't come back, I don't care!_ her mind raced as she grabbed a container with leftover thai food from the fridge, _because nothing will ever change if this goddam cycle isn't broken,_ she might have even said it out loud but living alone had these perks, no one would hear her anyway. _Ball is on his court_ , she reassured herself, just to regret it a second later, _When was the ball not on his court, Donna?_ She slammed the microwave door harder than she wanted it, the noise forcing her to snap out of her own train of thoughts. The food wasn't even that hot but it didn't matter. She was exhausted. 11:13 PM, the clock light flashed on the oven and her mind took her right back to about 24 hours ago, a self betrayal as she had sworn not to play the scenario on her mind again. The sight of him, just the night before, had pushed her over the edge faster than she could stop herself, after everything that had happened, he was a full force magnet that pulled her in the minute he walked in her office. Before she even fully processed Louis's words, Mike's advice and everything in between, her arms were brushing past his shoulders and slowly sliding down, her left hand settling on his neck and her mouth fading into his as she came undone, crossed the line, rule be damned, the taste of his lips just like 13 years ago and she could swear...

Her thoughts were interrupted by three knocks on the door.

Donna's heart raced at the sound, fork escaping her hand and bouncing on the kitchen floor.

Her breath halted.

 _He's in Chicago,_ she told herself, and the air came out shaky as if it were suddenly 20 degrees colder inside. _No._

"Donna," his voice was clear, saying her name the way he does, a plea and a warning all in one.

She leaned against the refrigerator, focusing on her breath. _No, no, no._

A few seconds must have gone by without an answer, but he was still there. "Donna, please open the door."

She closed her eyes tightly.

This was happening.

"Listen...I am going to stay here by the door until you open it, I know you're in there!" he dared.

 _Stupid fork,_ she figured he had heard it fall. _Shit._ She had to say something to send him away, fast, anything, just say it,"That's trespassing."

Harvey chuckled in the hallway. "So sue me."

She cursed him under her breath, "what do you want, Harvey?" the question coming out in a low tone as she stood by the door, her shaky hand hesitating on the knob.

He swallowed the lump of his throat, feeling her closer to the door. "Can we talk?" He said softly.

 _Talk? Ha! He wants to talk!_ She suddenly felt like she was in another dimension, frozen in place, very aware of her fast heartbeat.

"Please?" Harvey added, knowing he had a small window of opportunity to convince her. She heard him again, her hand finally turning the knob as she stepped back.

"Hey." He said as he walked just past the doorway, quickly yet timidly.

"Shortest trip ever, huh?" He deserved the sass, she figured, as she moved to the other side of the kitchen, holding on the oven to steady herself.

He cleared his throat, "Just needed a day," he said.

Used to fast paced conversations and dynamic interactions, the silence that took over was deafening for both. Harvey glanced at her, afraid but hoping to catch her looking at him, maybe their eyes would meet, but her timing was off as he was staring at his feet when she dared to look. _He needed a day,_ she heard him say, _how shocking_. Donna closed her eyes for a second or two longer than she needed, unable to tame the anger that rose.

"Brook-Moss merger?" He raised an eyebrow, a desperate save of the moment. _Work small talk, Harvey?_ He thought and could practically read the disappointment on her face as she probably struggled not to send him home.

"I signed it for you, it'll be finalized tomorrow morning. Didn't know when you'd come back," she said, piercing eyes on him, not skipping a beat.

They could always be professional, they'd always have that.

"Thank you." He added as he eyed the whiskey on her cabinet, her eyes following his. Before he could voice it, Donna retrieved the bottle and poured him a shot, neat, sliding the tumbler over until he grabbed it across the countertop, a move that looked straight out of a bar scene of a western movie, but they had both mastered it. As he sipped half the content for courage, she hated herself for the old habit of anticipating his needs.

"Louis took Vincent for himself since you weren't here, I agreed to it. Rachel finalized the briefs on the Giles's case, I'll have her put it on your desk tomor…"

"I didn't come here to talk about work, Donna." He interrupted her.

She paused, tilting her head slightly and bluntly staring right at him. _Well you goddamn started it_ , but the thought stayed on her mind. "I am simply reporting a day to the managing partner." There, that sounded better. Crossing her arms, she pulled herself together in more than once sense.

Harvey dropped his shoulders, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Look, I...it's not easy for me..." he stumbled on his words.

As the pattern started to present itself, frustration filled her chest, and she spoke, raising her voice by an octave. "Not easy for you to what? Talk about us?" Her hands signaled back and forth between them. "Oh it is easy, Harvey, we've done this many times. Let me tell you how it goes." She walked fast to the living room, away from him. "You do or say something nice, like _it's never just business with you..." and_ at his confused face, she added "yeah I know about that one, or you say ' _with you, it's different'_ or ' _you know I love you, Donna_ ,' then I press you for answers or I make a move and you…"she let out a nervous laugh, "you... run," she finished, hands on her waist as she faced him.

"Donna, please…" he whispered.

There was no point on even trying to hide how weak she felt, but enough was enough.

"When you said you loved me, the very next day you took any possible meaning from your words by saying it was out of pity. Then I told you I wanted more and you...you found yourself a girlfriend; I kissed you, you ran to Chicago. See the pattern?" She crossed her arms again to try to hide how much her whole body was shaking. It didn't matter what it took, she was going to let it out, sadness and lack of hope fueling her brain til words left her mouth unfiltered. "It's that easy for you, Harvey. Everything just falls right into place and you get away with it effortlessly but I…" she looked up, searching, hoping, so help her God she'd had enough of him winning, "so if you show up at my apartment wanting to talk, then goddamn talk or leave!"

A repeated nod from him was her cue to stop. There was something about Harvey's struggle to communicate his feelings that was actually pitiful. She could clearly see him _wanting_ to say something, but not being able to speak the words in his mind. It was as if his brain was wide open, phrases and dialogues completely formed, ready, she could tell, but then dead on his throat. Strange how he spoke so perfectly in a courtroom, or at work, around dozens of people, but here, with her, it was as if he was an unprepared witness on the stand about to destroy a whole case.

She spotted the veins on his neck get thicker as he forced himself to breathe.

"I… you're right," he conceded, showing a smirk that was too daring for the moment. "Almost."

She scoffed, bringing her hands to her hair in a desperate sign, her body language causing him to speak up before it was too late.

"I didn't go to Chicago," it was all he managed to say.

She held up a shrug, using her arms as a question signal, confusion clear on her face.

"I spent the day at the cemetery," he whispered, looking at his glass, "listening to jazz and drinking whiskey. I spent the day... sitting by him."

Donna's heart dropped at his reveal and suddenly she was the one that couldn't talk.

"I just needed a day, but I wasn't running. Not again. So you're wrong about that."

She nodded, fidgeting with her fingers and as her expression softened. Harvey knew he had an opening to continue.

"I actually spent the day confronting my ...thoughts. My issues. Not running."

It was like a high fever had suddenly taken her body, the sound of his words numbing every muscle and constricting the air in her lungs.

"And I really came here to tell you that..."

She felt her heart on her throat, swallowing dry as her pink tingling nose gave away her emotions.

"...I'm here. I'm not going to run," he added.

The tears came in then and Donna turned her body away from him.

Harvey quickly gulped the rest of the amber liquid and placed the glass on the coffee table. He walked over to her, standing an inch from her back as she didn't move, her body stiff like a statue. His hand reached for her hair, brushing it gently. For a second he just stood there, playing with how close their bodies were to each other, toying with the need to press himself against her, bring his mouth to her neck and circle his arms around her waist, til her dry, raspy voice woke him from his trance.

"Why?" She asked, as she once again closed her eyes, fearing the answer.

"Because I see it, Donna." He swallowed the lump on his throat. "I see you." He whispered, sending goosebumps running through her arms.

She felt the void behind her as soon as he moved away, anger filling her again.

"So why are you leaving now, then?" the sentence was out and it sure sounded to her like a plea for him to stay.

"I need to take care of something first," he gave her the truth and turned around, door closing discreetly as the tears streamed down her face. Alone in her apartment again, the first thought that came to her was that, last night, in her office, she could swear he had kissed her back.


	3. Coffee to start

Normality goes unnoticed every day. The hurried rhythm of heels up and down the hallways; the noise of associates running back and forth, flapping folders on desks; Louis's frequent yelling, all combined to make the days come and go uneventful. Nothing was extraordinary, but she felt completely out of place. The wall between their offices never seemed thinner.

They hadn't spoken since he'd been to her place a few days ago, leaving her to make sense of another ambiguous phrase, regret lingering for not saying half the things she meant to say. How ironic it was that he left her standing there after admitting she was right about him running away. _It is unbelievable how incapable we are, he is, of finishing a goddamn conversation_ , the thought played over and over on her mind. She had spent so much energy trying to not fall back in the pattern, yet it was the first thing that happened.

In the bullpen, on a much needed coffee break, she sat with Rachel for a rehearsal dinner checklist to make sure everything was in order. "Everything is going smoothly, Rach, we'll have a wing of Di Pietro's with six tables fitting around 40 people, intimate like you asked: salad buffet in the middle, hor d'oeuvres served and then choice between chicken or fish, side of pasta," she said with a calm voice, knowing the bride was already too stressed to even follow a conversation, "and the piano player is booked."

Rachel exhaled in relief. "I can't thank you enough, Donna, I don't know how you got that restaurant in such short notice, but it's my dad's favorite and if anyone could do it, that'd be you" she said, getting up to make herself some coffee.

"Oh, please, gimme a real challenge, " she gave Rachel a cocky smile. "Just make me a cup of coffee too and we're all set," she said, rotating her neck to try and alleviate her own stress, but actually stiffening as Harvey walked in, in desperate need of caffeine himself. This was the closest they had been since his visit.

"Hey Harvey," Rachel said, "Mike was looking for you, have you seen him?"

"Yea, I just spoke to him, thanks," he gave Rachel a quick smile as he changed the tone to announce her name, acknowledging her presence. "Donna."

She spoke back after a pause, "Harvey," and Rachel looked at her, then at him, then back at Donna, intrigued.

He attempted to look at the clock discreetly, but Rachel realized he was in a hurry. "Harvey I've made my cup, I was just about to make a cup for Donna but I'm sure she won't mind if you go ahead and make yours, you seem like you don't have much time."

Donna didn't respond and Rachel sat on the chair behind Harvey, eyeing her friend with her brows furrowed, attempting to understand where the tension was coming from. "What happened?" she mouthed, making sure Donna read her lips. "Nothing," Donna whispered as the sound of the coffee machine muffled her voice. Rachel gave her a look of disbelief.

As he finished the coffee, Harvey added a bit of whole milk, a bag of raw sugar and sprayed some whipped cream on top. He then placed it in front of Donna. "It's not an actual latte but it's the closest you'll get from an office machine," he said as he stepped out, leaving the two women alone.

They both sat in silence for what seemed like hours, until Rachel had to ask as she watched Donna's surprised expression.

"Donna, what happened between you two? You can cut the tension in here with kiddy scissors!"

Donna took a small sip of the drink and closed her eyes, savoring the gesture more than the coffee itself.

"Was that an 'I'm sorry for something' coffee? Rachel raised her eyebrows and watched as Donna let out a shaky breath, her eyes filled with tears. She then dragged her chair closer to her friend and let her head fall on Rachel's shoulder.

"Can I tell you tonight over wine?" she asked her, who easily agreed.

"Come over whenever you manage to get out of here. I'll get us some cheese, too."

Back at her desk, she laid her coffee cup next to her computer, then a post-it note glued on screen caught her attention:

" _Your needs before mine._

 _Coffee to start."_

 _-H._

She held the small yellow paper and her hand hovered above the trash can. Taking a deep breath, Donna folded it into an even smaller square and put it in her wallet, taking another sip of her coffee.


	4. Three-pointer

That night, on the way to Rachel's apartment, she started rethinking the decision. Talking about Harvey felt more like a task then a relief, there she was, dutifully reminiscing on her feelings for him like the past 13 years. _Why didn't I invite Rachel to my place?_ she thought. It would have been easier to escape Mike that way, their last interaction still on her mind, which then wondered between how rude she actually had been to the kid to then wanting to know if Mike had talked to Harvey again. She was sure they had talked, those two had more opportunities to gossip than any woman of that firm. Mike and Harvey made the men's bathroom the interesting one in the building, she had watched them walk out of there together far too many times. One could even suspect they were _way_ too close, but that one wasn't her, seeing she could vouch for at least one of them. _Though that would be a better reason for his lack of response to me,_ she thought.

The bathroom thought brought the time Harvey beat Stephen back to her mind, glass shattered, his knuckles scraped and red. In any movie or soap opera, Harvey's reaction would have made that an obvious statement of the guy's love for the girl. It was such a cliché move, any 90's romcom had mastered it. Not in real life, though. Not for them, the actress in her had a terrible habit of thinking of life as a script. Harvey had been very clear telling her it didn't mean anything. Denying their _us_ was something he never failed to do, since _the other time_. The 'nos', 'nevers' and the 'don'ts' didn't have any trouble leaving his mouth and the chances disappeared as fast as they were felt. No one doubted Harvey Specter's denials, his forceful statement were a trademark. His truth, on the other hand, hid under the layers of three piece suits, and very few people knew about them, very few people could peel Harvey to his core.

She used to be one of those people.

Donna swiped the card to pay for the fare and pressed the green button, quickly scanning the cab seat to make sure she hadn't left anything behind. Walking to the heavy glass door, the 'Zane/Ross' doorbell tag made her smile and she made a mental note to bring up the last name conversation with her friend one last time, still secretly hoping Rachel wouldn't want to become Rachel Ross. Their building's elevator was quicker and cleaner than the one on her building, _add that to the list of reasons to move,_ she thought, momentarily distracting herself from the torment of constantly thinking of Harvey. She felt like a schoolgirl, madly in love, coming for a sleepover at her bff's. _40 going on 14, a sequel, I wonder if Jennifer Garner is still available?_ she scoffed to herself right as she knocked on the door. _Oh, right, life is not a script._

"You made it!" Rachel greeted her excitingly.

"Hi Rach," she said, hugging her friend and lingering a bit more than usual. Rachel's hugs were some sort of healing touch therapy.

Rachel caught on, but didn't push for an explanation just yet. Donna was there, and that was already a victory. People acted differently under pressure and after more than 7 years of friendship, Rachel was aware that Donna didn't open up easily. This was one of the reasons why the redhead's suggestion to talk over wine had fallen on her like a request; she would have completely rearranged her schedule to be available for her friend. Donna had always been incredibly protective of Rachel, without ever diminishing her choices, and Rachel was probably the only one to know how fragile Donna could be, especially if the subject was Harvey.

Mike stood in the kitchen with a bottle of wine on each hand and a meek smile. "Malbec or Cabernet?" he offered, raising one at a time.

Donna pondered for a second. "I'm a cab girl but God knows I could use a little Argentinian love tonight," she announced her choice.

"And why's that?" Mike pried, to Rachel's immediate protest. "Michael."

It was Donna's turn to grin. "Don't pretend you don't know...Michael," she added, copying Rachel's tone on his name. "I'm sure Harvey has shared enough with you."

"So you _ARE_ here to talk about Harvey?" he added, again looking too smart for his own good.

"No comment ,counselor," it was the all he could get from the redheaded woman.

He opened the bottle of Malbec and walked over to Donna, pouring her a glass. "Listen...we're a team, Donna, and on our team the leader isn't always right," he said, placing a kiss on her forehead. "In fact, he's often quite blind to lead anything."

Donna couldn't help but smile, her lips curving up as her shoulders relaxed, Mike's support hitting her hard.

"I'll see you girls in a couple of hours," he kissed the corner of Rachel's mouth, her smile too proud to hide, and walked out to give the ladies some privacy. "Behave."

Donna barely waited for Mike to be out the door to feed her curiosity. "Is he going straight to Harvey's or are they meeting at a bar?" she asked as she dropped her purse on the couch.

"I got us some cheese and salami, but if you didn't grab dinner I have leftovers," Rachel added perkily, placing the cheese tray on the table and looking down to her phone to select a playlist.

"Cheese is fine, thanks," she answered, continuing to direct her glare at her friend.

"Acoustic pop or Indie rock? Maybe best of the 90's?"

"Rachel," she said, raising her eyebrows.

The brunette sighed loudly, selecting acoustic pop and lowering the volume, Lorde's voice filling the room. There was no way she'd be able to hide anything.

"He didn't go to see Harvey, Donna. He tried but Harvey said he had to take care of ...something personal," Rachel gave it away, filling her glass halfway.

"Oh," it was all Donna managed to say, that was twice in two days she had been speechless.

Rachel could see the broken heart under the Valentino dress and unwavering confidence, regardless of Donna's constant denials. She could pick up on the slightest variation of look and mood, her timing was usually right. She didn't press. She didn't force it. She simply moved on to discuss frivolous subjects, like any other girls' night, brushing through the pages of a make-up catalogue and showing Donna a few possibilities for the big day.

A blonde model wearing a cherry, pinkish tone on the cheeks and lips:

"Nope, it's your wedding, not a pageant. Besides, your skin color doesn't blush like that. Next."

A picture of a woman with well contoured cheeks, dark red lipstick:

"Red lipstick and a white dress? Vera Wang is crying just at your dirty thought. Shame on you! Next," Donna said, indicating the next page.

"Sorry, Vera!" Rachel added in between a laugh, showing her the next photo.

A face with peachy flushed looking cheeks, moist nude lips, smudged black eyeshadow:

"Hmm, pretty, but you should look that smudged after your first night, not before," Donna grinned.

"I'm losing hope here!" Rachel protested, to no avail.

"Next."

Then finally a model with slightly golden color on the cheeks, matte rose lips, dark mascara and eyeliner accentuating her eyes.

Donna smiled, taking the magazine. "That's the one."

" Really?" Rachel beamed, coyly. "I think that's my favorite, too."

"You're going to look stunning," Donna sipped her wine, looking at her friend. "Even if you go with the first one and change your dress to Sandra Bullock's pink long tube in _Miss Congeniality._ "

Rachel laughed out loud, letting her head fall back on the couch, hand pressing her stomach as she felt she'd been avoiding a bathroom break for too long. Donna laughed with her, until tears wet her eyes, and the more they looked at each other, their non-verbal conversation sharing the real feelings they hadn't discussed that evening, Donna's realization came crashing down that her tears weren't due to how funny her joke had been. So as their laughs subsided, her words came as a cathartic moment, cutting Rachel's joy abruptly.

"I kissed him."

It took Rachel a second to grasp the heaviness of what she heard.

"What?" she whispered to confirm.

"I Just...I had to know," Donna added, closing her eyes at the memories.

"To know what?"

She could easily read Rachel's face, a bit of eeriness and affection definitely there, reflecting a trust in her that made the words leave Donna's mouth when she never ever thought she'd say it.

"That I'm still in love with him," she added, looking up, and to her surprise, Rachel's gentle reply felt more like one of her own.

"Finally," she said, resting her hand on her friend's. "I bet it feels good to say that out loud."

Donna smiled, wiping her left cheek. "He came over a few nights ago."

"He did?" It was hard for Rachel to hide the anxiety. "What happened?"

"The same thing that always happens. I pressed him, he said some...nonsense, then he left," Donna sighed loudly.

"Did he kiss you back?" it wasn't the lawyer in Rachel, it was the friend that made her know exactly what to ask.

Donna shrugged, trying to minimize the flutter in her stomach. "It doesn't matter."

"Oh, it matters!" Rachel reacted. "Did he?"

"Rach, I know he hates this, because I kissed him while he's committed to someone."

"He doesn't hate it. He can't hate you. Maybe…"

"Maybe what?" Donna asked, slightly annoyed at her friend's ability to look at things through a rose colored glass.

"Maybe he's annoyed at himself exactly because of that!"

Donna scoffed, dismissing her friend's comment.

"He's annoyed that he's committed? Rachel, you're too naïve to be a lawyer sometimes…"

"Hey!" Rachel interjected. "Well for your infor..." Rachel began to say but stopped herself, realizing sharing what Mike had told her was not the best plan. But her inability to lie to her friend had prompted the jab in the first place. "Nevermind."

Donna stared at her, not regretting her comment. "Spill!" she ordered.

"He told Mike... he said he was seeing her tonight," she added, shyly, not wanting to make her friend hopeful, but having to tame her own hope at the same time.

"Are you trying to make me upset?" Donna looked insulted, and Rachel immediately realized she had misunderstood her point.

"I meant that maybe he's taking care of business, as in breaking up with her. He told Mike he was seeing her tonight and when Mike said _have fun_ , Harvey said it was going to be the opposite of that," Rachel spoke quickly, trying to recover.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Donna questioned, still looking upset.

"Because I didn't want you to make that face!" the brunette added, moving closer to her friend.

"Don't you see it? He said that when he left my apartment, that he had to take care of things and clearly he hasn't done it!" she yelled, her raised tone letting out a frustration that never got any easier.

She let her head fall on Rachel's lap. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I'm not mad at you...it's me, I'm the one who was naïve...once again," she let out a shaky breath. "He said..he said he _saw_ me and I thought that maybe this time…" Donna said as her face fell, tears freely leaving her eyes.

"Donna...he…" Rachel paused, a smile on her face, the sweetness in her voice always making everything easier. "Maybe he finally gets it."

The red head shook her head. "He doesn't. Because then we didn't speak again and for the millionth time, here I am, trying to make sense of...Harvey."

"I'm sorry, hun…" Rachel said, kissing Donna's head. "Just give…" she almost added, but Donna was faster, shooting up from her lap. "Please don't ask me to give him time, because God knows I've… I've wasted _so_ much time and I'm…" Donna's voice broke as she closed her eyes, tears running down her cheeks, " I'm so tired, Rach."

Watching her friend cry, Rachel felt her own chest burn. The pain was so raw, the feeling so strong, it left her empty, looking for the perfect word to say, but all she could do was fill their glasses.

"I get it now," Donna managed to say, hands wiping the wetness on her face. "What is like to not be able to be near him, without being _near him,"_ she added, and Rachel recognized her own words when she and Mike were apart.

"I don't know how you were able to do that for so long, but honestly, one day this ...this arrangement between you two was doomed to fall apart." She pulled Donna for a hug. "Is there anything I can do to make you smile again?" she added innocently, handing her her glass.

"Yes," Donna said, grimly, pulling herself together. "Please tell me I've convinced you to keep your last name, there's only so much I can handle and having a Rachel Ross as best friend is _not_ cool."

Wine came out of Rachel's mouth as she spit it on the couch, both of them laughing as they hurried to wipe it.

Mike figured watching a movie was the perfect plan for his night, that would give the ladies enough time to talk and he could finally catch that thriller Rachel refused to sit through. As the lights turned on announcing the end of the film, he reached for his phone to find 3 missed calls from Harvey. He pressed his friend's name and waited for him to pick up.

"Where the hell have you been?" Harvey sounded extremely annoyed.

Mike immediately knew this couldn't be good.

"I was at the movie theater on Times Square, what happened?"

"The movie theater? But I see the lights are on. Is Rachel with you?"

"No, she's ...I'm alone. What lights? Harvey, where are you?" Mike pressed, trying to understand.

"I'm in front of your building, so you're not home?"

"I will be there soon, Harvey, just...do not ring the buzzer, Rachel had a, uh, a headache. She's probably trying to sleep. Do not hit that buzzer!" Mike said as he jumped into a cab, hanging up and calling Rachel as fast as he could.

"Hey," Rachel answered, "Movie over?"

"Yea, is Donna still there?" he asked quickly.

"She's just about to leave, we're just…"

"Rach, whatever you do, do not let her leave right now! Harvey is downstairs!"

"What?" she asked, walking over to her bedroom to avoid Donna. "Mike, what am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, but he's waiting for me. I'll be there in ten minutes, just do something!" he said as he hung up, texting Harvey next to wait for him at the bar on the corner.

 _That shitty place? Can't we just come up and drink your scotch for a change?_ Harvey texted back.

 _Nah, I don't have scotch. Plus I shouldn't come up until she's asleep anyway..._ Mike lied. It was for the best.

 _Glad I wasn't the only one with a shitty night. I'll wait there._ Harvey replied, walking over to the bar.

As Donna collected her purse and took her glass to the sink, Rachel knew she had to act fast. "Mike, you've got to be kidding me!" she pretended to yell at her phone, causing Donna to halt any further movement towards the door. Rachel came back to the living room.

"You're not gonna believe this!" she said.

"What happened?" Donna asked, concern taking charge and shifting her mood.

"Mike just asked if…" _Think fast, Rachel, think fast!_ "...if he could ask Jenny to the wedding!"

"Jenny? Who's jenny?" Donna asked, trying to follow her friend as she paced to the other side of the apartment.

"Travis's Jenny...you know...the one I saw wrapped on Mike's sheets…" Donna was the actress, but Rachel sure didn't fall short after the stunt she was pulling.

Donna's mouth fell open. " You're kidding?"

"I'm gonna kill him...I need more wine…" she added, hopeful, praying her white little lie would do the job.

Donna sighed loudly, looking at the time. "Let's go with the cab, then. And if you want I'll talk some sense into Mike tomorrow."

Rachel smiled, relieved it had worked and trying to discreetly look out the window.

About 20 minutes later, Mike walked in the bar to see Harvey turning a tumblr over to the bartender. "Number 2 already?" he said as he sat on the stool next to his friend.

"Number 3," Harvey answered. "Thanks for meeting me."

"I needed a drink, too," Mike replied. "What got to you?" he didn't wait to ask.

Harvey stared at his new glass, swirling the liquid as he figured the best way to say what he needed. "I'm a goddamn idiot, Mike."

The younger lawyer couldn't help but chuckle. "You know, I've been waiting for the moment you'd announce that, but it doesn't feel nearly as good to hear it as I thought it would," he refrained from joking further. "What did you do?"

"More like what I didn't do," Harvey began to explain. "I didn't stop her."

"Stopped who?" Mike said, signaling to the bartender to bring him the same drink, not paying too much attention to Harvey's drunk musings.

"Donna," Harvey answered, every letter of her name sucking 5 years of life out of him. "She kissed me. She kissed me and I..." the confession forced Mike to stare at his friend over his shoulder.

"You didn't stop her," Mike added, letting him know it was clear now what this late night drink was about.

"Then tonight...I couldn't do it. I wanted to but I couldn't. I chickened out."

" Chickened out? Harvey what are you…" Mike questioned, his mind wondering if anything had happened and his plan wit Rachel hadn't worked.

"Paula," he interrupted, turning his head to look at his friend. "I couldn't break up with her. I wanted to. I was going to."

"Ah, I see. I hadn't realized you switched women mid sentence," Mike pushed, his patience slipping out as fast as the alcohol went in.

"I deserve that," Harvey took it, continuing his inebriated tale. "I got to her place, she had made dinner and she looked so happy, she had no idea what was coming. She was just innocently chatting and I...I sat, and ate, and kissed her."

Mike sipped the rest of the amber liquid before he had the chance to throw it on Harvey's face.

"I stayed there pretending the whole night, pretending to care about what music she put on, about brussel sprouts, about the stupid wine. It was just one more night and I've been pretending for so long I'm fucking great at it," Harvey added, bitterly. "Then I lied saying I had work to do and I left."

Mike thought of the words he said to Donna earlier that night, how she looked before he left his apartment.

"You're right," he added harshly. "You're an idiot."

Harvey locked his jaw and stared at Mike, his pride momentarily taking the best of him.

"You go ahead and pretend night after night, Harvey. Like you said, you're a pro at it. But being a pro at pretending makes you a fucking coward, Specter. That's the worse in you," Mike laid the truth without pity.

"You know what?" Harvey raised his voice, causing the bartender to look at them. "We're done here."

"That's what you should have said to your girlfriend, not to me. But go ahead and practice," Mike snapped.

The comeback was too good even for Harvey. He just stood silently, and Mike didn't stop there.

"You want someone to feel bad for you? Feel bad because instead of ending it, you _chose_ to continue to pretend? You're not pretending just to Paula or just to yourself, Harvey. What you don't see is that you are pretending to someone else. Someone I happen to care a lot about. So I feel bad for her, not you. You lie to her every day that you are not with her. You pretend and you lie every hour that you hide your feelings, that you try and show commitment to another woman that's not her, that you sleep on another woman's bed..."

"I'm a cheater, Mike!" Harvey's loud voice echoed through the closed off space of the pub. "I'm a coward, yes, but she made me a cheater..."

"She didn't make you _shit,_ Harvey!" Mike cut him off. "She made it _possible_. Donna made it real."

Harvey swallowed, intimidated once again. His mind tried to work comebacks, tried to focus on hating Mike's smartass, but it only took seconds til it succumbed to hopelessly trying to hang tightly to the few logical branches he'd made himself believe in. He'd held firmly to avoidance, ignoring what could be actual love, love in all its power and irrationality, in all its insecurities and bliss. That love and all that it should have been against what it could possibly be. The love his fear had always tamed.

He looked down, defeated as he sat there accepting Mike's words as a heavy reality he'd avoided for way too long. They sat in silence, Mike taking a swig of his drink as he cooled down, trying to focus on the highlights of the Knicks game.

"I'm just scared shitless of everything I now see..." Harvey said in a barely audible voice. "...Everything I can now _almost_ …"

" _Almost_ is not it. Doesn't get either of you anywhere. _Almost_ is what you've had for 13 years," Mike said, finishing his own drink in one gulp.

Harvey took a swig, nodding. "The minute I break up with Paula, it's possible. It's real."

"I hope so. But you gotta shoot the big shots, man. Paula is great, I get it, I bet it's comfortable with her. But she's a free throw. Donna is..."

"Yeah," Harvey chuckled. "And it's going to sound fucking pathetic when I tell her it's not about who she is," he whispered as he pulled his phone and texted Paula, saying he needed to talk and no, he couldn't wait for another chance.

 _Is this about Donna?_

Harvey read her reply and shoved his phone back in his pocket, gulping the rest of his drink.

"But I'm guessing she already knows it's about who she's not," he said as he threw Mike a hundred dollar bill and walked out of the bar.

Mike waved to the bartender for the check and glanced at the tv, noticing the knicks had won, Porzingis hitting 6 three point shots.


	5. Tie day

In a semi-conscious state, functioning on minimal sleep, Harvey marched through the lobby earlier than usual. Wearing an impeccable suit, showing a perfectly clean shave and the usual 'naturally' sleek hair, he at least looked like his usual self. Crossing the hallways on a quick pace, he squeezed his own right hand, the mark on it still bothering him, a twisted reminder of his night. His professional life had taught him that doing the right thing may bring some immediate relief, but it often comes with its fair share of sorrow. Now his personal life had caught up. "Was it all a lie? Did you ever love me, Harvey?" her words ran once again through his mind, and hadn't he been so exhausted and slightly inebriated, he probably would have thought of a better answer. "I did have feelings for you, Paula. But they'll never compare."

Regardless of the good intentions buried in his resigned demeanor, being the means of someone's pain was heartbreaking. He had feared the confrontation, had wished their story had just faded into oblivion, but there was no easy way of ending what should have never begun. Transference, was it? Unsettling as it was, relationship ruptures could end with both men down. He cared for her.

As he passed by Donna's office, he was for once glad to have beaten her time coming in. Memories of the kiss flooded his mind, as they had last night, keeping him from caving at Paula's hope of a desperate save. " Is Donna threatening to leave you again? Is this one of your panic decisions? one that you'll regret? " she had questioned out of her best analyzing abilities and in that moment, Harvey finally admitted how he truly hated when she did that. As guilty as he had been of failing to see a dozen clues against their relationship, she had been too. Just as much. He doubted there was room for more regret in his life, her questions prompting him to lock his jaw and suddenly he was raw, managing to just merciless whisper "I need the key back now," and somehow watch her rummage through her bag and throw the object on his chest.

It was over. It had to be that way simply because the alternative was worse.

After watching the door close behind her, Harvey had collapsed in bed without even pulling off his duvet, clutching the spare key so hard it drew lines on his skin.

His laptop wasn't even on his desk before he heard Mike's voice.

"You look like you commuted straight from hell," Mike quipped as he walked in Harvey's office, handing him a coffee.

Maybe he didn't look as great as he thought.

"Is it spiked?" Harvey matched his tone, sipping the drink. "Thanks."

"Figured you'd need it."

They both stood for half a minute, Mike wondering what to say next, Harvey wishing he'd just ask. The dark circles under Harvey's eyes were evident, and that was definitely a different tie than usual. That itself was enough of a testament to how awful his friend's night must have been. Years ago Mike would have never noticed the different accessory, but too much time surrounded by perfect suits and flawlessly dressed women had definitely enhanced his fashionable feminine side.

"It's over," Harvey anticipated the question. "If that's what you're here to know. So go ahead and tell Rachel, so she can report it to Donna, gossip boy."

It was fair he was acting even more douchey than usual, Mike thought, letting it slide. "I'm just here to see how you are, man." Kill him with kindness.

Harvey let out a guilty sigh.

"It's done," he added, without much resistance, something he wasn't used to. "But enough of that. I have work to do."

"If I can offer you one advice…" Mike started to say, but Harvey rolled his eyes, raising his voice to cut him off.

"You never seem to stop giving me advice!"

"... You should definitely be the one telling Donna," Mike finished his point. "I bet you that'll be the better part of it."

Harvey walked to his door, extending his hand as a signal for Mike to leave his office, "You know, after last night I figured I'll never be able to find another shrink anywhere near the five boroughs... Hell! I might even have to go to Jersey if I need one! But I forgot I have you, Dr. Ross."

"Remember that I only care about seeing Donna happy, not you," Mike was done having it, kindness my ass. "Oh, and Harvey? There could be a mathematical reason for how bad your tie is."

"Get out, John Nash," Harvey said, catching the quote from A Beautiful Mind and not letting Mike see him laugh.

The call from The Harvard Law Review magazine was transferred to him right before lunch. After brief introductions, the student reporter asked for his time to create the profile of lawyer of the decade , explaining that there would be an interview of short questions. "It's in recognition of being the face of corporate law in New York City, Mr. Specter, it really wouldn't take that long. It would be me and our photographer, who would take a picture of you at Pearson Specter Litt. We're in New York this week so anytime works," the student continued.

Listening to the kid, Harvey sat back and reclined his chair, reminiscing on his own days at school "Right, I remember the drill, it hasn't been that long."

"Yea, I have read a few of your articles and they were brilliant! You graduated, uh, a little over 20 years ago, correct?" the student questioned, unaware of the effect it would have on her subject of interest.

"Your point being?" Harvey lowered his tone to a mildly threatening one. "You better not add that info in if you want my time, Janeth."

"It's Jen, Mr. Specter," she corrected.

"You're just throwing caution to the wind now, aren't you Jen?"

"I am? I am. Okay. Sorry. I should go. Does tomorrow work?"

While he continued to have fun with torturing the kid on the phone, Harvey caught a glimpse of Donna leaving for lunch.

"Confirming tomorrow afternoon, then? 3 PM? for about 20 minutes?"

"Actually, Jen, what if I told you I can give you more?" he suggested, checking the shared online schedule of all the partners. The future reporter didn't skip a beat.

"Then I'd say it's my lucky day. But what would I have to do?"

"Good. You're learning your ways already. Tell me, do you have any friends at the Harvard Business Review magazine and if so, how fast can you get them to New York?"

"Fast!" she answered, immediately putting Harvey on speaker to text someone. Why?"

"Because there is no Lawyer of the decade without COO of the year ."

"Your COO?" Jen asked, intrigued.

"From my secretary to one of New York's best COOs, seems like quite a story, don't you think? But then again, it's up to you. I don't really have to write headlines for you, do I?" Harvey teased.

"Two interviews it is. Thank you, Mr. Specter."

After seeing her return from lunch, Harvey tried to focus on work, but writing the same sentence on an email five times was definitely not productive, his mind driving him to only think of how he would inform her of the interviews. Closing the tab, he stood up and walked himself to her office.

They had only spoken professionally, both having been stuck in a meeting for almost an hour listening to an HR/associates debacle over health insurance cuts Donna found inadmissible, while Harvey and Louis stood impartial. The meeting had be adjourned without a decision from either partner.

Upon seeing him walk in, she discreetly held her breath. Harvey froze halfway in. Maybe he dreaded something beyond the interview chit chat.

" Harvey," she acknowledged his presence without lifting her gaze from the papers. "What can I do for you?"

He winced at her tone, but it seemed like after everything, this was the best he was going to get.

"I got a call from both the Harvard Law and Harvard Business magazines, they want an interview with us." A little white lie can't hurt.

Donna stopped reading and this time she directed her eyes to him. Something immediately caught her attention, forcing her to focus on what to say without giving away where her eyes had landed.

"An interview? About what?"

"Not sure, professional profiles, I believe. Nothing bad. Suppose to be quick questions, a picture, simple. They'll be here tomorrow at 3."

" You scheduled it already?"

"Figured it was calm enough around here. Is that a problem? If it is I'll call and…"

"It's fine, Harvey, I'll be here," she interrupted him, quickly going over her schedule.

"Thanks, Donna."

She pressed her lips on a thin smile, then furrowed her brows, her eyes darting back to his neck. Harvey took the silence as his cue to leave, turning around towards the door.

"You should be glad they don't want to take your picture today," she whispered to herself, half hoping he'd hear her.

"What did you say?"

Crap. Okay, she fully hoped he hadn't heard her.

"Uh, nothing...it's just…" she fumbled with her words.

"What?" Harvey prompted.

"... You dug that tie out from the last decade?"

He immediately noted her tone, the usual tease he'd so desperately needed.

She couldn't stop herself, words spilling out as she realized old habits die hard, and before she knew she was standing, walking around her desk towards him, completely driven by impulse, a move strikingly similar to days ago when her lips ended on his. She was going for it, for the tie she assured herself, because she needed to make sure it was it, needed to straighten it, make the knot looser, til her brain snapped back and she leaned on the chairs that faced her desk instead, keeping a safe distance between them. "If I may say, that shirt would have gone much better with that metallic silver one, so be glad they're not coming to take your picture today 'cause that's not your best." She wanted to ask where that tie had com from, wanting certainty was now a feeling she couldn't shake off.

It felt like hearing a song that hadn't played in years and still remembering all of the lyrics. It was like reading a poem you know by heart, knowing halfway the best verses are still to come.

Before he could think twice, his feelings spoke louder. "You need no permission to say what you want," he said, chuckling.

Donna breathed in her emotions, her heart begging her to follow up, whisper or scream she missed this too as if she could read what he really meant to say. "I can't believe you still have it," she let out the words and the air she held altogether.

Harvey took two steps towards her and she immediately stood up straighter, hands on the chair behind her, she couldn't trust her legs. It was one of the first ties she had given him, he hadn't worn it in years.

"I had a rough night," he confessed, even though she hadn't asked the question. "The tie caught my eye this morning when I was getting dressed. Might not look great but it felt right."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...it's none of my business."

He grinned and walked another step as she tightened her grip on the chair, they were mimicking a duel, one action leading to a reaction as they waited to see who'd charge first.

"It is never just business with you, Donna," he added, and this time she stared as he continued to approach her, her mind relentlessly flashing back to their kiss. I had to know.

"Harvey," she pleaded, the way only she knew how. One word, his name out of her lips, was all he needed to hear to know she still wanted an explanation. She wanted to be sure. He knew he had to say it, tell her now before the moment was gone.

"It can't be just business with you anymore."

Donna let her head slowly fall, unable to hold his gaze, a symbol to the dominance Harvey had over her, a bow to the strong hand of her feelings for him. She closed her eyes firmly, wanting unsuccessfully to keep the tears from showing. "And does that mean what I think it means, Harvey?" she asked, head still down, unable to tell if she had actually spoken amid her shaky breath or just imagined she did.

He took a second to respond and she gathered the courage to look up, look at him, her hands leaving the chair and sliding up through the tie, loosening the knot ever so slightly as if to help his words make their way out.

Harvey covered her hands with his, locked his eyes on hers and swallowed hard. "Donna, I..." he whispered.

But before he had to chance to say it, Donna saw the head of HR approaching her office, causing her to quickly push the chair back and walk back to her seat.

Last thing they needed was another HR crisis.

"Is Mr. Litt going to join us for this meeting, Ms Paulsen?" the woman said, looking at both Harvey and Donna. "Afternoon, Mr. Specter."

"He'll be here soon, " Donna asserted her, holding herself together and turning her face to Harvey. "I was about to tell you that we need to continue the meeting from this morning, " she said, firmly, not a fault on her tone. "I think I know a way to decrease the associates' insurance charge without cutting benefits."

"What, now?" Harvey asked arching his brows to her, tension rising in his body, but a different tension that he was used to, still recovering from how close they stood seconds ago.

"Figured it was calm enough around here, is that a problem?" she quipped back, a smirk on her face reminding him of the moves she used to pull.

Seeing her recover so quickly, all power and dominance taking over the vulnerability of seconds ago, he wanted to run back to her, pin her against the wall for challenging the managing partner in front of other employees. Pin her against the wall and pull her skirt up, roll down her underwear and let his hands take back control in a different way.

Harvey clenched his jaw, swallowing dryly.

Donna breathed in, a confident look on her face, and somehow Harvey knew she could feel his mind was anywhere but the associates's insurance.

She had won this fight before it even began.

Nearly another hour went by and as he sat listening to her go over numbers with Louis, Harvey caught himself thinking back to the morning, when he dreaded that collecting the gains and praises from righting a wrong wouldn't come fast like he was used to seeing in his cases. Patience was not usually a virtue he carried. Yet only a few hours passed and he had already felt better. As Louis left, Harvey stared at his watch while Donna finished signing paperwork for their deal, anxiously waiting to be alone with her again, but fearing he'd miss a meeting across town. He needed to tell her that it meant everything, to give her the answer she was after, but HR definitely didn't need to be present for that.

Then he thought of it, walking to the side oh her desk, quickly figuring out that he needed no words to assure her. Freely opening the drawer next to her, he discreetly pulled the object out of his pocket and placed it inside, grabbing a pen to keep any suspicions away.

"Don't you have your own pens?" she asked, annoyed, not lifting her eyes from her signatures.

"I have a bad habit of taking things from you that I should never have taken it," he said as he walked to the door, smug grin on his face.

As the other woman finally collected all the paperwork and headed out, Donna spotted the key on the drawer that remained opened and suddenly she had to cover her mouth not to cry, or not to laugh too loudly.

Now she knew.


	6. In between

Exchanged looks in a shared elevator ride; a shoulder bump as they walked side by side to a meeting; knees touching as their chairs rolled closer, his hand discreetly resting on her thigh; a late night dinner date idea interrupted by a last minute case; the week following their interviews was rendered by meetings, short encounters and mismatched plans. The days passed by without them being able to have any quality time alone. In fact, it felt like they had no time alone at all, the longing for each other clear on their faces and gestures.

She smiled as she caught him staring one afternoon; in another moment he cleared his throat to wake her up from daydreaming in front of Louis; all the coffee he walked in and handed it to her, all the lunches she had delivered to his office; the fact that she didn't need a cab home on any of the days she left late, Ray waiting for her _for however long it takes, that's the order, Ms. Paulsen_ ; the confidence booster advices she gave him like the old times; it was all back.

They had found their rhythm. They were Harvey and Donna again, their minds and actions as synchronized as ever, and like never before. They were a perfect hand holding fit; they were long unbroken gazes as a fever heat rose on their bodies; a mutual symbiotic system feeding off each other.

No, they weren't the same. They were better.

Harvey's phone lit up with her name on the screen and he couldn't stop himself from diverging his look to it, continuing to lead the client on with just a nod. _'Just got home. Going straight to bed. Just wanted to say goodnight.'_ His reply was immediate. ' _Nice. Make me think of you in bed. That'll make this meeting go faster._ ' Donna smiled to herself on the mirror as she wiped the black mascara off her eyes. It didn't matter how much, or even for how long she had toyed with the idea of them being openly flirtatious, of them wanting to be together, it still felt surreal, as if she'd wake up at any moment and it would all be gone, like fog lifting up as the morning hours passed. " _We'll have time soon. Now Focus. We need his business,_ " and her message had the opposite effect of her request. Harvey needed another drink to redirect his attention to the million dollar man in front of him.

It didn't matter how late it was when he got home, or if he knew she'd be sleeping anyway, his fingers were prompted by however many glasses he had drank, so he shot at her, ' _Sooner. I need you sooner,_ ' falling asleep as he waited for her reply.

The next day the magazines' copies were waiting on their desks as they both came in. Harvey quickly skimmed through his profile, but his interest was on the business issue laying on her desk.

"I hope this is only the first of many," he said as he walked in her office. "Can I see it?"

She smiled coyly and tossed him a copy. Donna sat reading her answers, recognizing her struggle on every word, seeing her battle to the top on the student's lines. It felt good, the recognition. She felt a little vindicated, having on paper the proof she could be an inspiration, that she could empower other women to move up, to not settle, to demand more and break the goddamn glass ceiling. It was about time more people knew she was COO. This was her climb, her supernova, no room for false modest nor doubt. ' _It's just the beginning',_ she hoped to herself.

As on the days prior to this one, the preamble of a moment between them was suspended by Mike and Rachel bursting in her office, holding copies of their own, congratulating both on their interviews, but the brunette couldn't hold the excitement over her friend's piece.

"Don, I can't tell you how happy I am to read all of this! And your picture, you look amazing...not that you don't look amazing everyday but wow!"

"I have to agree," Harvey added. "Should have been the cover."

Donna couldn't hide her proud smile, it just wasn't as big as Harvey's.

"It's no Time magazine, guys," Donna said referencing Mike's interview.

"Oh, come on. It's from a prestigious institution just like Time is. Plus you look much better than I did," Mike chimed in.

"Thanks, guys," Donna said. "You know how much this means to me."

They watched for a second as Mike lifted the magazine to the wall as if looking for a spot where to add a soon-to-be framed article.

"I'm sorry, Harvey. Yours is great, too, I didn't mean to not mention yours," Rachel added as she realized how significant his piece also was. "I mean, what you have accomplished in your career is inspiring to any future lawyer. Or any lawyer, actually...my gosh I am...not good with my words today."

Harvey put his hands in his pockets, laughing and bowing his head in gratitude over Rachel's comment. He had to admit he didn't care for her a few years ago, but it was hard not to feel differently now.

"That means a lot coming from you, Rachel."

Mike rested his hand on Harvey's shoulder, his own way of appreciating the attitude towards his fiancée. He was very close to adding a joke about two guys gushing over their friend's women, but held on in fear of Donna and Rachel's disapproval. He wasn't sure where they stood just yet. But he had to do something to get them talking.

"We should celebrate the two of you! I mean, I'm sure Rach can agree that we need to focus on another power couple for a change," Mike said cheerfully, and Harvey couldn't help but stare at him. The kid never missed a chance. "Let's go for drinks tonight, say, 7ish? On me!"

Suddenly the idea of an impromptus double date sounded like the perfect chance to be together without the pressure of a formal date. At this point, they were so desperate for each other that they'd go mudding with Louis.

"It's a date," Donna decided instantly, and Rachel, like the good Donna disciple she was, picked up on the exchange of looks between them.

Unlike what they both hoped for, that was all the time they had for now. Mike was forced to pull Harvey for consultation on a case, leaving the two ladies alone. Rachel watched the two men walk away until they disappeared of her sight, quickly hopping on Donna's desk.

"Okay, what was _that_ all about?" she raised her eyebrow.

"What was what?" Donna feigned to be unaware.

"That look! And again, with the tension! And the smiles! All of it!" Rachel announced all the reasons as she counted them on her fingers.

Donna faked a tearful face, bringing her hand to her chest as she forcefully trembled her voice. "Aww, you've come so far, Rach…"

The mocking tone was received with protest. "Hey, I always had a good eye for you two...even before I knew you guys were, you know...Darvey."

Donna chuckled, raising her eyebrows. "That we were what?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, as if you didn't know that's what the entire firm calls you…" and as she realized Donna's surprised face, she couldn't help but gloat. "Oh my God, you didn't know! How could you've not known? Aren't you _Donna?_ I can't believe I actually knew something you didn't. The student has become the master!"

"Darvey, huh?" she repeated out loud as she came to terms with it. "Well, can't say I'm surprised he gets more letters than me and that I start the damn name. Ain't that the truth?" she laughed as Rachel followed.

"Seriously, though...where are you guys at?" Rachel insisted.

"I'm...not sure. We've had...moments. And I think we're finally on the same page. He seems...different," she confessed, hope spilling out on every word.

"I know he broke up with her. Mike told me. And I'm slightly upset _you_ haven't said anything to me until now," Rachel pouted.

"I...I haven't had time to process anything, Rach. Plus he didn't exactly tell me they broke up…"

"He didn't tell you?" Rachel interrupted with criticism in her tone.

"Not with words. But he didn't have to use them. He simply gave me back my spare key," Donna shrugged as she leaned back on her chair, the corners of her mouth rising into a shy smile.

This time Rachel was the one bringing a hand to her heart.

"I just...I feel like I'm on a daze, Rach... waiting for him to snap out of this, for him to just back off like he always does, run back to her or deny everything," Donna confessed, taking a deep breath to hold her emotions. " This isn't the first time that I think things might change, that...that I feel this wave of possibility washing over me and then I end up sinking a little deeper every time until..."

"Donna…" Rachel tries to interfere, grabbing her friend's hand.

"I'm not drowning, Rachel. I can't. This has...I'm…" she loses her words and lets Rachel sensibility fill in for her.

"Scared," the brunette whispers. "I know. But you gotta have a little faith in your story."

The knock on the door came to wrap up the subject prematurely, the blonde partner holding the magazine.

" Hi ladies. Hope I'm not interrupting."

Rachel hopped off the desk, going towards the exit.

"You're not. I was just leaving," she said as she waved to Donna, knowing they could pick up the conversation later on at the bar. "See you later."

Donna took a minute to watch her visitor, noticing the magazine opened on her interview, Katrina's hands gripping it tightly, her stuck up ballerina posture looking even more tense.

"Katrina. What can I do for you?"

"I just read this and came to congratulate you," the junior partner stated. "It's inspiring."

Donna took it all in, quickly deciding on using the opportunity to set the record straight. She'd be meaning to for a while.

"Thank you," she pondered what to say next. " But I have to say I didn't expect _you_ to like it so much."

"What? Why not, Donna?" Katrina asked, her high pitched voice clearly denouncing her nervous state.

"I'm gonna go straight to the point, Katrina, because I don't have time to waste," Donna said, standing up from her seat. "I know what you said to Harvey. I know that you told him that making me partner was a mistake, that it would make it too easy for others."

"I...that's not exactly what I said…" The blonde stammered.

"Don't lawyer me, Katrina. You're not the first one to try that on me," Donna added firmly. "Now I knew it was a long shot, and I don't blame you for Harvey deciding to make me COO instead, a position that I negotiated because I deserved it."

"Fine," Katrina gave in, letting her arms fall to her sides, magazine on one hand. "It doesn't mean that I don't think you deserve this article."

" Do you mean to congratulate me? Or are you doing it because I have a vote into making you senior partner now?"

"Donna, I…" Katrina whispered.

"Listen, Katrina, I remember five years ago, when you were nobody, you came to me with cookies and I helped you to succeed. I gave you my insight on Louis. I also welcomed you back and I've empowered you ever since, which is why I hope that you really mean what you said now. Because regardless of how great I think Harvey and Louis are, this firm has not only lost an incredible boss since Jessica left, it lost a _woman_ in leadership. A mentor. A female vote on the table. And any woman in this firm should be as desperate as I am to reclaim that. And to add to it."

Katrina swallowed hard, finally holding Donna's gaze. "You're right. I didn't know that you knew about my conversation with Harvey…"

"I know everything. You should have learned that years ago," Donna throws her the last jab.

Katrina finally let out the breath she was holding, feeling completely out of her game, stripped naked with her intentions all out in the open. It was too late and too shameful to be anything but completely honest.

"I came in peace, Donna. Because of the guilt I feel for saying what I said. I should have never doubted your capabilities for this role. Or any that you aim for. So I'm sorry for that. I really am. I meant what I said about the interview. And if one day you believe me to be fit for senior partner, then I'll be honored to share the table with a woman like you."

Donna softened at the sincerity of Katrina's words, letting out a sigh signaling the end of her confrontational tone.

"Then thank you. I'm glad you like it. Because I like you. And you should know that your chances here are always better if you're on my good side," she smiled, offering Katrina the hope she needs for her future at the firm. "Now you're welcome to bring me those cookies again anytime you want."

"Yes, ma'am" Katrina joked, heading back to her office.

As the day wound down the idea of a fun couples night seemed perfect, almost as perfect as the idea of being just the two of them. For her, it felt like walking on a dream, stepping carefully into the next moment, the desire too strong to let her stand still and the fear too real to let go completely. For him, the denial status quo, while safe, was finally less than ideal. They could sense each other's resignation as the unquestionable attraction brought them closer. But this time they were letting love's justice be biased.

"Hey," the simple word announced him as he walked in her office, clock ticking minutes away from 7 pm.

"Hey," she answered with a coyness that didn't belong to her. "I'm almost ready to go."

"No rush. Mike said he's still reviewing something," Harvey eased her. "I actually wanted to talk to you while it's just the two of us."

To talk. That was the second time in a few weeks that Harvey initiated conversations about them. She was still getting used to that and while it seemed out of character, she knew there was a lot that needed to be said between them.

"I'm listening," she said with a smile.

He stood in front of her desk as she sat looking up at him.

"I think you already know what I'm about to tell you but I should say it anyway, because I don't want anything between us to be assumptions," he started, and she felt his tone was serious, yet hopeful. "We work with facts, and you deserve straight answers."

"I do," she said with a nod. " We all do."

" That day, before we were interrupted, you asked me if what I said meant what you thought it meant..."

"Yes, I remember," again a smile turning up on the corner of her mouth and the hair on her arm spiking up at the memory.

" It did, Donna," he gave it to her fair and square. "Paula and I are over. Have been since that day."

She let the silence linger, waiting on her need to answer ' _good'_ to fade, taking the information in, focusing on her breath to slow down her heartbeat. She had to be able to speak, because she had one more question.

"And where does that leave us, Harvey?" she asked, sincerely hoping he'd be able to give her the answer she didn't have herself, that he'd know what to do now that they both wanted it, that he knew which step to take to move forward, which direction to go.

Harvey chuckled at the only answer he could think of. "That leaves us with nothing in between us but this desk."

He watched as she closed her eyes and swallowed slowly. There was something so compelling about Donna's ability to know when a moment was meaningful. She always stopped to appreciate it, to let his words in and comfort her soul, settle her doubts. He was starting to do the same. To look at her closely, to notice her in ways he'd never done before. He reached over and grabbed her hand, thumb caressing her palm.

As she opened her eyes, he immediately realized the tension rising through her spine all the way to her shoulders. The muscles on her face tightened and the smile turned into trembling lips, her nostrils flaring and dread spilling off her eyes.

It was too late to save the date.

"Didn't think ' _thou shall not touch'_ would apply outside dark rooms," the voice came from the door. "Guess I was right."

"What the hell are you doing here?" she said, hoarse voice out as her chest rose with a hitched breath.

"It's nice to see you too...Scarlet," he added with a grin.


	7. Rupture

**The Rupture**

The ability to read people is one of the most valued skills in business. Understanding people's actions to predict reactions; noticing behavioral patterns; analyzing body language, whether it offers resistance from crossed arms or shows anger through clenched jaws: Emotions feed thoughts and drive decisions. So being able to see, absorb and anticipate a brawl, an uncomfortable situation or a real acceptance smile gives you a better chance to prevent what is coming.

But it's still just a chance.

She had seconds to scan the scene in front of her, at the same time that she needed to ease her own breath. She could taste the dryness in her mouth, could even feel her nostrils flaring as she struggled to exhale slowly. Her eyes immediately skipped to see Harvey's confusion through his furrowed brows, and his slightly inflated chest at the mere presence of another man was hard to ignore. Then she diverted her look to the man already inside her office, his steady walk and straight posture were threatening, his chin lifted a bit higher than usual, _to match Harvey's height_ , she thought, all showing he was confident and wasn't really there to have a drink for old time's sake.

Reasoning only gave her two choices. Although she desperately wished Harvey had been as into their previous moment as she was, therefore distracted enough _not_ to hear the man call her by that name, or even her response, she could already see the questions on his face. She could try to smile, fake a casual tone, ask Harvey to excuse them and find a conference room as fast as possible. Or she could make use of Harvey's presence and wish for him to inhibit the visitor, to force the man to measure any harsh words and spare her from humiliation. If she were honest with herself, this was a lucky way out considering Harvey sure knew how to intimidate. The sense of protection Harvey had for her was always a given, even at times of clouded judgement and heavy internal struggles, he had taken her over anyone else.

Both options were far from ideal. In a nightmare situation when your past knocks on your door and your two completely different lives align, any predicted outcome would carry her worst fears. No matter what she did, nothing good was going to come out of this room, she saw it a second later, and the realization fogged her mind.

"I have to say I'm impressed," the man nodded as he approached her desk, Harvey's eyes moving between him and Donna. " None of you ever made it this far. But I knew you were special from day one."

She swallowed the knot in her throat and forced a smile, tightening her stomach to stop her body from shaking.

"Mr. Riggs," _you goddamn asshole,_ she mentally added. "Long time no see. I have to say _I'm_ _also_ surprised to see you showing up at my office unannounced," she stroke back, the last word coming out slower than the rest. But her tone was contrived, dry and unlike herself. She could still hear her own heartbeat, two headache points immediately pulsing on her temples. _Shit._

"Harvey Specter," he announced himself, extending his hand. Always making the first move, always on the offense.

"John Riggs," the man added, shaking Harvey's hand.

Donna watched their hands join and time stood still, as if the past 20 years flew over at the speed of light and reached the present she so carefully built, right there in her office. A firm handshake was the only thing Harvey could do to claim his space, at least for now. He had no information, his eyes pointlessly searched for an explanation or a connection he might be missing. _Did he call her Scarlet? Who the hell is this guy?_ "You two know each other?" was the question he verbalized, signaling between Donna and John, and before John could say another damaging word, she tried one of the exits.

"Mr. Riggs and I go way back. In fact, Harvey, if you don't mind, why don't you go ahead and find Mike and Rachel, that way we can quickly...catch up," she cleared her throat. "I'll meet you soon."

It should have worked, every ounce in her wished it did, even with Harvey's eyes once again piercing at her, letting her know he was curious to say the least, worried as usual and even jealous, she could see it, he was ready to take her suggestion. _You go way back?_ He was about to ask before leaving, but wasn't fast enough.

"Well, Donna..." John chuckled, ruining her plan. "Sorry, I have to get used to calling you that. I am actually here to see you AND Harvey, because as proud as I am that a, uh, _dancer_ made it this far, you're not a lawyer."

She stared at John, hoping he'd see the plea in her eyes. _Please don't do this. Please leave._

Harvey's focus shifted back to her and suddenly it felt like John wasn't even in the room. Their eyes locked and she froze watching the sweetness of just moments ago begin to fade. _Dancer_? Such a simple noun that lingered in the air ready to expose a reality buried six feet under. It wouldn't be long until Harvey put all the puzzle pieces together, she saw his face slowly changing into a scowl, yet the corners of his mouth refused to give in, half smiling at her, letting her know he was there, still her mighty savior, she only needed to say the word and he'd take care of this. The inkling of what was about to happen made her start feeling lightheaded. Her blood pressure was dropping, she knew. Too long without eating, stress rising fast, fear of loss taking control.

"Of course you need a lawyer," she managed to break the silence. "Thing is, Harvey is a busy man and we were just about leaving anyway. But like I said, why don't we go in another room and I'll quickly make a phone call, get you one of our best associates and this way…"

"I said I need Harvey to take my business," John interrupted, altering his tone towards her. Patience wasn't his forte, and it wasn't Harvey's either. "And why is that, Mr. Riggs?" Harvey questioned even louder, turning his body completely to the visitor, standing tall in a way he could block Donna out of this conversation if he had to. _Watch that tone._

"Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Specter. You're lawyer of the decade after all," he added nonchalantly. "But that's not all. You see…" John continued, pulling a copy of each magazine from his briefcase and tossing them on Donna's desk. "When my daughter said Harvey Specter had practically re-ques-ted that the profile on the COO of his firm needed to be written, I found that to be... _interesting,_ since I had just found out who said COO was. So I read such interview, read both of them, and my daughter innocently showed me her notes on your own interview, Mr. Specter, and how you cited Donna's name dozens of times, which I'm sure was the same case with you, Donna. It was clear to me then that your _connection..._ was quite strong," he grinned, hand extended to the open pages, Harvey's article's author reading _Jen Riggs._ On Donna's, one highlighted sentence, that her and Harvey had been working together for 13 years going through thick and thin, served as the strike of a match to light the fire.

She let her head down as she leaned forward on her desk, she knew she shouldn't have done so, but the weakness was overwhelming as a sting on her heart forced her to hide her face.

"I was coming for you for help anyway, Scarlet, realizing Specter came with it was just that hundred dollar bill at the end of the night, if you know what I mean."

You learn how to read people by observing people. The more you meet, the more you watch, the more you classify them into files of characters in your mind. She wasn't the only one in that room who could read every trace of personality and every faltering behavior people struggled not to show. Donna knew that she had been read from head to toes for the mere minutes he'd been in her office. Like a wild predator he could sense her fear, retract her to a corner as a helpless prey because her panic was pouring through every pore. She wasn't afraid of him, it wasn't that. She was afraid of Harvey. Afraid of Harvey finding out the truth.

"What do you want?" she asked again, opening Pandora's box.

"I want to buy out a competitor. The relevant one anyway. And I don't want to pay that much. Atlas casino resort, that's mine…"

"I'm familiar," Harvey interrupted. "Been there before. And let me guess, you want Empire?"

"Wrong," John added. "I think big, Harvey. I want World resort."

Harvey chuckled, the idea too ridiculous for him to even entertain it. "You're out of your mind if you think the SEC would allow for a merger that big," he mocked. "I doubt even the state of NY would."

"Which is why I came to the _lawyer of the decade_ and Specter Litt's esteemed COO, _"_ John shrugged.

She knew this wasn't a compliment. It was a threat and her chance to avoid it was slipping through her fingers.

"We'll look into it," she risked, trying to buy herself some time.

"No, we won't. Are you serious right now?" Harvey scowled at her.

"You will," John began, placing his briefcase on the back of the chair for support.

"Listen, there's no coherence to this deal, I guarantee you any firm…" Harvey interrupted, his tolerance for ignorant CEOs was minimal, this was a waste of time.

"You'll do what you have to do to get it approved. Or this goes to every dirty tabloid in the tri-state area," John said retrieving an envelope and holding it up.

Harvey moved to grab it, but John pulled it away quickly.

"Cut the shit, Riggs, If you have something, you let me see it. I'm not going in blind on this," he ordered, his hand extended once again, this time in a much less welcoming gesture.

"This isn't a bluff, Harvey. I'm just waiting to see if Donna wants _me_ to show you her past, or if she wants to do that herself?!" He didn't wait for a formal response, it was his last line of the night and it felt like it was being spilled on them like cement on a sidewalk, about to permanently cover every scratch of their story.

John handed Donna the envelope and tossed his card on her desk, nodding to Harvey and walking away from her office.

As she struggled to hold the envelope, her hands shaking and her lips trembling, Harvey walked close to her, watching her face fall and the tears prickle her eyes.

"Donna, what's going on?" he said, his voice a scared whispered forced out of his throat. "Gimme the envelope."

Not a single sound was heard on the entire floor, not a single thing moved besides the slight side to side sway of her head.

In a swift move, he ripped it out of her hands, Donna letting out a loud gasp in surprise: "Stop!"

He needed one picture, only one look at her practically topless, legs wrapped on a pole, the black lacy thong thinner than the heels she wore. Worse than the outfit, or lack thereof, was to see her head falling backwards as the tip of her long hair brushed her ass, red lips wet with pleasure, eyes wide shut and a smile showing her curled tongue.

He'd seen that face before, 13 years ago, on her bed.

He felt the bile in his stomach rise unexpectedly fast, forcing him to lean over the garbage can, one hand holding it and the other covering his mouth to stop himself from retching, envelope falling on the floor revealing dozens of pictures.

"I can explain," she blurted out against any reasoning in her that knew not a single word she said would matter. "Harvey please."

She watched as he loosened his tie, pulled on his collar trying to breathe, sweat drops starting to appear on his forehead. She could see his chest moving as if he had just ran a 5K, the color fading from his face.

"I was 20 years old and I was desperate," she began, taking a deep breath. "I only had acting gigs, and I needed to pay rent, loans, food, costumes..."

The memory filled her eyes and she didn't care that the tears now fell freely. She stood close to him, Harvey bent over the garbage can, arms holding the object as he tried to steady himself.

"I only did it for a short time, and from the first night all I thought about was how much I wanted to leave, how much I hated it…"

She knew she was rambling in a desperate tone and he didn't let her finish. Nothing could have ever prepared her for the wrath that followed that moment. Before she could add another vowel, Harvey picked up the garbage can and his pitcher arm threw it in what felt like a 90 mile per hour curveball, freezing her on the spot as she watched the glass door shatter, every bit of her name and Chief Operating Officer title broken into hundreds of pieces.

"Liar!" he screamed at her. "That is not the face of someone who is hating to shake her ass for a living, you goddamn liar!"

His voice was somehow louder than the whole glass door breaking. Loud enough to send Mike and Rachel running in a panic from the elevator.

She was in shock. She couldn't move. Her breathing was ragged and she could practically feel life leave her body as he walked to her, grabbing her arms. His eyes were shot red and she could see he was broken, the devastation sprawled on every line of his face.

"How could you...do that? When were you gonna tell me, huh? Never?" his voice was hoarse as he talked inches away from her face. "Is that where you rule comes from? Because you fucked for money, so you can't mix the two anymore?"

She turned to look to his right hand as his fingers pressed onto her pale skin, a quiet moan followed by tears. His words hurt more than her arms, sadness took over as she realized how, just earlier today, she imagined him touching her in many ways, couldn't wait to feel his hands on her. Except this way.

He pulled away immediately as he realized his actions, clenching his fists and for a second he thought of apologizing, unsure if he had hurt her, but the pictures on the floor brought the hatred back faster than his heart skipped a beat. He didn't know what to do. He thought he was going to get sick again, right there on top of the photos. Harvey wanted her to talk, to say it wasn't her on every single one of those goddamn pictures, he wanted her to say she had not made that face for money.

He sat on the chair further from her,, elbows resting on his legs and face between his hands as he tried to control his mind, tried to not let the angried panic attack blind him again. As he closed his eyes, all he could see was her being touched, being _paid,_ being _desired_ , how they could easily have her and the thoughts turned him inside out. His pride and masculinity hurt, suddenly he wanted her to look at him, he wanted to push her against the wall and kiss her passionately, to hear her wince with pleasure that _he_ was responsible for, to make sure that night on her bed had been real. As he stood up, Mike's voice startled him.

"What the hell is going on here?" he said as he stood staring at the glass. "Harvey, what did you do?"

Rachel spotted the pictures first, the trail leading her to Donna standing on a corner by the shelf, shaking like a bamboo tree in a whirlwind as tears streamed down her face. She didn't need any of them to answer Mike's questions. Ignoring the glass on the floor, she stepped over it towards Donna, and as Harvey began to follow, she turned to him, finger pointed at his face as her tone of voice came out shaky, but threatening.

"Don't!" she said, her lips trembling. "Don't you dare take another step toward her, Harvey!"

His impulse halted at her threat, bringing him to reality.

"Take a walk, Harvey!" it was Mike who yelled next, and as Harvey left her office, Donna collapsed in sobs in Rachel's arms.

Harvey's sense of protection towards her was always a given. Unless loyalty was at stake.


	8. Ride the tide

Alright, let's discuss Harvey's outburst. The last thing I wanted was for people to think I support any sort of violence, especially domestic violence. I don't. That was not my intention. So if I hurt you or made you feel uneasy, I apologize. But I'm not changing my work. I knew it was a risky scene, that it would push people to the edge, but that is what writers want. That their work causes emotions. This is still just fiction.

Thank you for the criticism and all of the reviews. Positive or not, it's what gets me going. I am so incredibly grateful to all of you for the kudos and comments. You all rock.

I hope this makes it up.

 **Ride the tide**

She sat staring into nothing, feeling only the warmth of the cup of tea in her hands, legs resting sideways on top of each other. The reddish marks around her glistening eyes were evidences of the night, along with the frail demeanor that made her look like a porcelain doll. She occasionally took a deep breath, looking at them as if she had something to say (maybe she just remembered to breathe), only to sigh and sip her drink, the taste of chamomile soothing her tongue as she fell back into silence.

Rachel sat on the other end of the couch, giving her some space. Mike took the floor, his back against the wall and his head resting on the tv rack, both refraining from saying anything but the necessary for her comfort. _More tea? Are you hungry? Can we get you anything else?_

It wasn't until hours later, sometime close to midnight, that her voice made both of them jolt upwards, like parents to a crying newborn in an inversion of roles neither saw coming. Rachel discreetly moved closer and Mike's eyes blinked several times as they focused on her, still half asleep.

"Vinny," she said without raising her look to the two people around her. "I couldn't think of his name."

Rachel and Mike looked at each other, their faces pure confusion.

"Who is Vinny, honey?" Rachel asked in a delicate but questioning tone, probably giving away how concerned she sounded. The younger lawyers had dozens of questions, they not only wanted but needed to know everything that happened, yet none of them dared to ask her. It was too soon. The pictures on the floor spoke for themselves, giving them a reason for Harvey's outburst. But they weren't enough to explain how they had gotten there in the first place.

"From Superior Glasses," she added, staring at the floor. "Leave a message. He'll be there at 6 am if you say I'm the one asking."

Rachel's heart sank and she tried to hide her frustration, understanding Donna was thinking of fixing the glass door. Pure efficiency was her comfort zone, the place in her mind where she lodged her thoughts to defend herself. It was typical, predictable.

"You don't have to think of that now, honey" she offered, a sympathetic look on her face.

Before she could say anything else, Donna cut her off.

"Because I should be thinking about my half naked pictures on the floor or a garbage can destroying my door? Or how my relationship is ruined before it even had a chance to begin or better," she added harshly, "how this entire goddamn city is going to find out about my past? Is that what I should be thinking about?"

It was enough to push Rachel back as she looked down and pressed her lips tightly together, leaning back on the cushion in a defensive move. It wasn't on purpose nor was it personal, she knew.

"I'll call them," Mike chimed in to ease the mood in the room, his male fix-it brain glad to have something to do. He took pride in being a sensitive guy, but even for someone like him, this situation couldn't be solved in a simple conversation. Rome wasn't built in a day is what they say, so a phone call to repair one part of the problem was something he was happy to make.

"Mike?" Donna called as he stood up. "The pictures. I don't want anyone to see them. Not yet, at least," she said as the images of the mess on the floor flooded her mind again.

"I have them," he said, "I picked them up after you walked to the elevator with Rachel."

She rehearsed a smile, glad for his insight.

Mike pat his pockets searching for his phone, but couldn't find it. He hadn't touched it in hours, making him think he had left it in the cab on the way to Donna's, but luckily remembering he had put it in his computer bag, together with the pictures. As he took it out, his screen showed 13 missed calls and several text messages, all from Harvey. He looked at Donna from the corner of his eyes, not wanting her to know.

"I, uh...I'm gonna step out in the hallway, make the call, get some air, I'll be back in a bit," he said, getting a nod from Rachel.

Mike didn't need to read all the text messages as he headed downstairs to know who he would see as he stepped out.

"Hey," he barely managed to sound casual as he saw a disheveled Harvey standing right outside.

"I knew you'd be here," Harvey muttered. The tie sat in his slack's right pocket and Mike noticed the missing button on his shirt, probably from how fast Harvey must have yanked it out. The collar was stretched out and he had certainly never seen the messy hair before.

"We didn't want to leave her alone," Mike explained. '"How long have _you_ been here?" he asked, still clearing all the texts, unable to face him.

"I don't even know," Harvey shrugged.

"You look like shit, by the way," Mike added the insult, thinking he was even being too nice.

Harvey chuckled. "I feel like it, too."

They both stood in silence for what felt like several minutes. Harvey leaned against a pole, thinking about what to say next, how to even begin telling Mike what had happened, wondering if he should even try to apologize. Mike stared at his phone screen, googling Superior glasses, his thumb hovering over the number he had to dial, taking a lot longer than he should have. He knew Rachel would worry if he didn't come back soon.

"How is she?" it was the only relevant question on his mind, coming before anything else that needed to be discussed. It was all he managed to say at that moment.

"She's ok," Mike said quickly. "You know, given what…" he began to say but stopped himself as he watched Harvey's head drop down and a long sigh come out of his mouth, as if he had been waiting for that information to finally let go of an imaginary cord around his neck. "I…" Harvey tried, but his feelings choked him. "I lost it, Mike."

Harvey's eyes couldn't hold the tears and his voice failed him again. He turned slightly sideways, trying to recompose himself, or hide his face from his friend, guilt and regret spilling out. "I need to see her," he finally whispered.

"Harvey, I don't think it's a good idea," Mike urged him.

"Mike, please..."

"Go home, man" He turned around to go back in the building. "You'll talk to her another day."

"No, I _have_ to see her," he begged, his hoarse voice stopping Mike by the door.

Harvey felt like his body was giving up, he had walked for hours after hitting a bar or two, knowing no amount of alcohol would drown the sound of his screams or the noisy door breaking and the glass spreading on the ground like a waterfall meeting a lake. All he wanted was a bed to throw himself down and lay until he felt whole again. But his mind refused to let go. He needed to see her, to look in her eyes, make sure she was all there, physically intact, even if for a second. He desperately needed to replace the last image he had of her for anything better than her scared face, to hear her say anything other than the deafening moan she had let out when he grabbed her shoulders. If he had hurt her, had even slightly bruised her, Harvey wasn't sure if he'd ever be the same, if he'd ever make it through tonight.

"Mike, look," he began, pulling all the strength from within, knowing he'd need to convince Mike in mere seconds. "if I don't get the chance to see her tonight ...I... I am going to sit on this sidewalk until you and Rachel leave and then I'm going in, whether that's gonna take another two hours, two days or two weeks, I will stay…" He paused for another breath, "I will stay."

Mike didn't know what exactly called at him, maybe his friends' eyes shot red, or the desperation in his tone, or maybe because he was a sucker for the prospect of Harvey and Donna as something else, or even just as they are, it was probably all of these, but he let out a breath amid a curse and signaled for Harvey to come in, knowing he'd get in trouble for this. But at some point they'd have to figure out what the deal was with those pictures and what in the world had happened that night, and Harvey was no help in his current state of mind. Neither was Donna.

They headed upstairs with Mike going in ahead of Harvey, who waited in the hallway. As he entered the apartment, Rachel leaned against the stove, watching for the water to boil to make more tea and Donna stood by her dining table, curtains pulled open as she looked out the window, arms crossed in front of her.

"Did you call?" Rachel asked as the kettle started to whistle.

"Not yet," Mike responded, not looking at her. He walked towards Donna.

"Why not? He heard Rachel say but his next words were not directed at her.

"He's here, Donna," Mike said quietly. "He said he has to see you."

For a second Mike wondered if she had heard him over the increasing noise of the kettle and over Rachel's loud interference. "You've got to be kidding me, Mike!"

Donna didn't move, but Mike had to walk back quickly to the door to stop Rachel from going outside.

"She's not talking to him!" Rachel practically hissed.

"Rach, this isn't our call, I under…" he held the door knob and tried to get her to lower her tone, unsuccessfully.

"Mike you saw what happened!" she spoke over his voice.

Donna turned on her heels to face them, before her voice interrupted their argument.

"Let him in," she whispered, bleakly.

Rachel stood incredulous, staring at her friend, then back at her fiancée, moving her hands to rest on her waist as she bit her lower lip in resignation. In a swift move, she turned the flame off and headed with decisive strides stopping in front of Donna, her mouth opening and her finger up in the air, ready to give her a piece of her mind.

"I'm sorry," Donna spoke softly before her. "I didn't need to be rude to you before."

Rachel's shoulders dropped and her hand moved to rest over her heart as she gave up on saying whatever she was about to, taking a deep breath.

"It's fine," she said, sweetly, like only she knew how, all of her resolve evaporating in seconds. "Are you sure about this?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

Donna nodded, putting her hand over her friend's chest, squeezing Rachel's hand.

"Do you want us to stay?"

Donna shook her head. "He's my…." she began to say but stopped herself unsure of how to complete her own sentence when so many words seem fitting. _Problem? Friend? Enemy? Love?_ "Harvey. It's just Harvey," she finished to the best of her ability.

 _He's my Harvey_ , Rachel smiled thinking how that sounded, realizing that her statement carried so much history in it that she had nothing to worry about. _It's just her Harvey._

Donna had time for one last deep breath until Mike opened the door and Harvey felt all eyes on him. Over all of her anger, Rachel couldn't help but soften at the way he looked. _Guess I'm not the only sucker_ , Mike thought as he watched her, but saw it better to keep the comment for himself.

Harvey walked past them, as if Mike and Rachel were mere ghosts, his gaze steady on Donna's, a wordless conversation happening then, just as their eyes met. The exchange was powerful, charged with an electricity that belonged to them only, a first contact that relayed he was now in a different skin, coming from another mindset than hours ago, unlike any other way Harvey had ever laid eyes on her; that she was in control this time, fragile but resilient, wearing a stronger coat than hours ago, but willing to undress to him. He stopped only inches away, his chest rising and sinking fast with his breaths, and before a word was said, he dropped to his knees and cried, his forehead leaning on her thighs and an _I'm so sorry_ mumbled amid his sobs.

She let one hand rest on his hair as the other covered her own quivering mouth, Mike and Rachel closing the door behind them.

They stayed in the same position until both their cries subsided, until she wiped her burning tears from her face and nudged him to get up, thinking they had a lot to say and if any of them planned on getting any sleep tonight, then they better get started. She sat on a chair behind the dining table, a quick deja vu filling her memory of the night he cried wanting to turn himself in to Anita Gibbs. But this was different. As he stood up, she watched as his eyes seem to search for something on her, moving quickly from her shoulders to her arms then back up, until she finally understood what he was looking for.

"I'm not bruised if that's what you're wondering," she said. " I was in shock at... your reaction, not in pain."

Her remark didn't ease his mind as much as he hoped it would, the guilt digging deeper at him. "I...I would never, ever…" he tried to tell her, the thought of it making him sick, but her old habit of reading his thoughts came through. "I know, Harvey." It was still Donna making him feel better, but this time it had the opposite effect.

He removed his jacket and placed it on the chair, a move so familiar to her, she couldn't stop her heart from beating faster everytime he did that. It felt as if he lived there and his suit jacket always belonged to the back of one of her chairs, or the arm of the couch.

He sat across from her, still feeling like he should beg for forgiveness, say anything and everything he could possibly think of to get her to smile at him again, but apologizes need motives to become more meaningful. He would take it all back just to have her look at him like she did just hours ago with only her desk between them, such a short distance that he now wished he had rushed to close before being interrupted again. He desperately wanted the table to be the one obstacle between them again, but she felt as far as she had ever been.

"I wish you had told me," he finally broke the silence.

She turned her gaze back at him. "Did you want me to put it on my resume? she shot, setting the tone of the conversation.

"You're missing the point," he carefully accused. "That's not what I mean."

"Then tell me why," she said. "Tell me what I don't see, Harvey," and the way she added that bit washed over him. She was open, willing to hear him, in an altruistic skin only Donna showed and he couldn't not look at her and empty his soul on that table.

"You know everything about me," he began, and she knew she did. She knew his signature, his favorite designer shirts, which cologne he had on and his everyday rituals. She knew his fears, traumas and pains, as much as his pride, humor, ecstasy and gains. What was always intriguing to Harvey was how little she knew about how he felt for her, but that wasn't her fault. "Except that, to me, you're perfect."

Donna narrowed her eyes as a crippling doubt flooded her mind.

"What a sexist criticism disguised as compliment, Harvey," she gave him an ironic smile. "So the fact that I danced, and let that be clear, I said _danced_ to other men for money makes me...less perfect?" She slightly rose her chin to prepare for his answer.

"No," he said without hesitation. "It just made me feel like you weren't... mine anymore. My Donna. The one I also know everything about. The one that is a part of my life, I...I felt betrayed."

He paused to look at her, meet her eyes again hoping he didn't sound insane, deeply wishing his truth could break through her.

"And I'm not saying that anything I felt justifies how I reacted. It doesn't. I was absolutely out of line and I would turn back time if I could. You know that If you said I hurt you, or that you're afraid of me now, I would forever feel like there was no punishment enough in this world for me," he said, swallowing the lump on his throat.

It was impossible not to see the guilt on his face. Donna looked away, folding her arms across her chest, angrily thinking that despite the whole showdown, still no one made her feel safer than him.

"It hurt, Donna. Seeing those pictures, those…" he blinked hard to erase the image of each photo.

"What hurt, Harvey? Just your pride? Or your heart as well?" she challenged him to confess, even though it was already undeniable.

The man he was before would have said it didn't matter. Before, he would have told her that how he felt for her wasn't the focus, or that she knew the answer even though she wanted reassurance.

"If you're asking me If I was jealous, the answer is yes," Harvey responded to the hidden message in her question. "I was sick to my stomach. I was blinded with hatred for every single one of those guys on those pictures, because every part of me wanted every part of you to myself."

Her heart couldn't help but feel a thrill at how different talking to him was now. He didn't hide himself. He was there, present, open and letting her in on how he felt.

"You think I'm one of your vinyls ? One of your cars? You can't own me," she added harshly and defensively, struggling to control her breath and to believe in her words. _Doesn't he already? Hasn't he always owned you?_

" And I'd trade it all for you. I don't want to own you, I just want you," he said and the arrogant smirk on his face made her want to slap him. Or kiss him. Donna felt dizzy at how fast her heart and mind switched control.

"Harvey, we're adults. You've been with other people, and so have I, this isn't news to you," she dismissed him, trying to counter his possessiveness by feigning an indifference that didn't belong to her. To them.

"And is there any reasoning in jealousy?" he questioned her, letting out a chuckle. "Besides, knowing that information is different than seeing it," he whispered and she knew they had discussed this before, whether it had been related to Stephen, or Paula, or Mark, even Scottie, there was always a part of them that ached for the other, or that hurt when an idea became real. "Especially now."

Either she acted quickly or she would be drunk in his words. The power he had over her was paralyzing. Harvey held all her strings, like the marionette she was, and it drove her nearly insane to feel like she was almost incapable of fighting him, or fighting her feelings for him. It was ironic that now, when she was ready, determined to not give in to her desire, to whisper his name and see him walk towards her, pick her up and hold her, it was when he looked ready to pull her to himself and never let go. _Not like this. Not after all of this._ It couldn't be, it wouldn't be that easy.

Before he had the chance to elaborate, Donna stood to look out the window, turning her back to him, aiming to switch the direction of the conversation, keep her head above water. "Let's focus on what matters," she said stoically, beginning her story without waiting for his permission. "I only worked for him for a few months. He owned another casino in Atlantic City. This girl I met at an improv class told me they were looking for dancers, said she had paid her entire semester just with what she made there," Donna scoffed at herself. "You can imagine how naive one would have to be to believe that, but I was just a girl from Connecticut who really, really wanted to make it on her own," she scoffed at her ingenuity. "So I went with her without any idea of what I was doing, only desperate to not have to quit school, quit the play I was in. As you know, asking my father for help wasn't an option. But I quickly learned the reality of it all. So that same day I left," she said, almost forgetting he was there, lost in her memories.

"When did you go back?" Harvey asked, more out of respect for her story than out of actual curiosity.

"About a month after that. My rent was due, the semester was over and I was desperate," she said. "In the beginning I didn't think I could do it, that I could...take my clothes off and spread my legs to arouse them," she purposely said to startle him, noticing it worked as he shuffled on the chair, clearing his throat. "But I was an actress, and a dancer. Not exactly that type of dancing but I picked up on it quickly. So I acted, every night, and in a way it was probably one of the most difficult characters I've played…" she trailed off. "Definitely the worst."

It was his turn to stand. Harvey took the tie out of his pocket and tossed it on top of his jacket. Hearing her say all of that made his chest burn, somehow increasing the regret he felt over his reaction, the awful words he had said to her.

"You know what the worst part of everything was?" she asked, taking steps towards the kitchen to make herself another cup of tea. Her head pounded again, begging for sleep. But if she was going to survive this conversation, she needed to make him feel she didn't care for his reasonings. Or didn't want to care. That his reaction made her bitter memories of over 20 years ago boil up like lava. she couldn't simply let his charm win her over. "The worst of it was that they didn't see me as a character. Every single one of them thought that in the end I'd want to fuck them for their money. That I was, in fact, Scarlet. They thought the same as you," she barely believed the merciless words out of her mouth.

Harvey took the hit. It hurt more than a jab to the chin, but he'd never retaliate.

"Please don't say that," he said as he shook his head. "You know I don't think that. I was angry."

But she wasn't done.

"You'll have my resignation tomorrow," she added without a single scratch on her throat, a straight face he'd seen before when she was angry at him.

His face fell and his chest hurt like a dagger twisted inwards, reaching the aorta, spilling blood and cutting his oxygen. "No," he let out with a breath.

"Harvey…" she attempted to reason.

"I don't want to hear that," Harvey said, impulsively. "We are fighting this," he added and she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel slightly hopeful.

"We can't!"

"What we can't is let some arrogant piece of shit come into our firm and bully us into doing something," he pleaded.

Donna couldn't help but noticed that, for the first time, it was _we_ instead of _I_ and _our_ in place of _my._

"If I'm not COO, the threat of publishing those pictures is meaningless, Harvey," she said, ignoring him. " It'll be easier this way."

Harvey shook his head, unable to counter her argument with a fair professional response she would actually take. He wasn't the expert on reading people in the room, but it wasn't hard to realize she wouldn't look at him anymore. He watched as she sipped her tea, his mind understanding then she had been thinking of this for hours, had been wanting to tell him she'd given up since the beginning of their talk, her resignation already taking place within. He wouldn't let her. Wouldn't allow it. Truth was that being closer to her than ever, getting his feet wet at the good tide their had been riding had given him a glimpse of how they could be, the possibility of having it all with her, and Harvey Specter could definitely get used quickly to having the best of everything. He hurt for an intimacy broken by his reaction of hours earlier, but It was still there, still in her, and he knew he would have to go after it, pull it out, make her fight rise like she did to him countless times.

He stood and walked to the kitchen, standing inches from her and searching for her eyes til she looked down, avoiding his, but he didn't move.

"Last year we both sat here and you stopped me from going to Gibbs, you pulled the brakes on an emotional decision I was about to make because you said you didn't want to lose me," he paused for a breath, still looking for a recognition on her face that he had stroke a soft side, bringing back a memory she couldn't deny. "So now it's my turn. I am here asking you to tell me everything and fight by my side because the firm can't lose you, I can't bear to lose you, Donna."

She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"I lost it, I know that, and whatever reason I have for having reacted the way I did is absurd, it's irrelevant, so you have every right to be angry. You have every right to want to punish me. You can hate me, you don't have to be my friend, you don't have to like me, you don't have to be with me in any other way rather than professionally, but don't leave the firm. I'm here asking you to trust me one more time, Donna...just one more time, because I will let you keep your job and your dignity even if it is the last thing I do."

It was her turn to shake her head, but he could see her resilience was fading.

"Donna, listen," he said, touching her chin and forcing her look at him. "I know you think I'm here just to save the firm from…"

"Embarrassment," she cut him off.

"...from a risky deal," Harvey corrected her, "But I am here because I can't bear the thought of someone coming into the firm and threatening you, whether you're my COO or not. We can fight this, but I need you."

She finally held his gaze.

She knew it was a mistake the moment she did, the same pull of early in the evening made her body relax and lean into his.

His desire was unstoppable as he felt her body melt slightly into his, his right leg moved slowly in between hers to catch her.

"Fine," she whispered, biting her bottom lip. "We'll fight."

It felt as good to hear as one of his father's songs. He looked at her eyes again, searching for permission, begging, and seeing her slowly blink a consent, Harvey moved his face closer, parting his lips as his mouth touched hers. They stood there like teenagers, their lips frozen on each other's as 13 years caught up to them, then his hands moved to her waist, pulling her towards him, as if she'd break if he didn't hold her. Moving her hands to the back of his neck, she pressed his face against hers and breathed his scent, their lips still locked as neither dared to move them or pull for a breath, afraid it wasn't real. Harvey slowly pushed her against the counter, eager for a deeper contact as she arched her back against the granite top. As his hands moved down her hips, gripping her thighs to pick her up, the movement knocked the tea mug inside the sink, the noise startling them as they broke apart. She licked her lips, putting her arms up as he tried to hold her again. The microwave clock got her attention, 2:30 am, and he knew his night was over by following her eyes. Donna moved quickly to her room without saying a word.

He took a few breaths to get some oxygen to his brain, his stretched arms gripping the countertop as he started to wonder how he'd make it home crippled by complete exhaustion.

"You can take the couch tonight," she said as she emerged from the bedroom with a blanket and a pillow, throwing them at him. "We'll continue this conversation when it's all over, are we clear?"

"We're clear," he nodded, and finally let himself collapse in her living room as she shut her bedroom door.


	9. A thousand leaves

**Chapter 9**

She woke up to a throbbing headache, startled by the annoyingly loud noise of the alarm on her phone, an unusual beginning to her day. Her alarm was a safety feature she set every night, one that she always beat it, eyes opening minutes before it rang, giving her a chance to lay in silence for a bit. It was still 6:30 AM, but a disruptive early morning like this got her brain to quickly switch from dream to dread, then immediately to the man asleep in her living room. As she began to open her bedroom door, wrapped in a silky black robe, she stopped to reconsider appearing in front of him with just a soft slippery cover. But it didn't matter because, through the creak of the door left partially open, Donna spotted the neatly folded blanket on top of the pillow, left on the arm of the couch.

It hadn't taken her long to fall asleep, exhaustion beating the anxiety of the days to come, at least for that night. Part of her didn't want to admit it, but having him right there had contributed to a sense of safety, letting her mind drift away, even if temporarily. She figured she'd slept soundly, or he had been extra quiet leaving in the morning because she didn't remember hearing anything.

There had been very few days in 13 years that Donna didn't want to show up at the office. This was reasonably one of them, but she thanked heaven for the small miracle of a lonely elevator ride, giving her time to lean against the cold metal wall and sip her coffee. The hot liquid wasn't doing much to set her spirit ready for the day and focus escaped her like the steam through the lid. It was hard not to think of her long legs covering an entire page of the _The Wall Street Journal_ , or any shaming pun intended headline the _Post_ would print; it was humiliating to imagine the clients she had helped close pulling out of Specter Litt, the looks she would get, the career she had fought so hard to have in danger of vanishing in a day.

Even harder was to not think of his lips on hers just a few hours ago. A moment of weakness, she kept telling herself, but it wasn't a coincidence that the only part worth reliving of yesterday involved him. He was her doom and her salvation, her beginning and her end, a strong wind and a rock for over a decade, and she felt as far in as she'd ever be out.

Walking out of the elevator onto the firm's shiny floor felt like taking steps on quicksand, her feet were heavy and her body suddenly numb. As she neared her office, the brand new glass door was already in place. To untrained eyes it looked exactly the same as the previous one, but she immediately noticed the clear spot where her name and title were once engraved, fate reminding her how fragile everything was. One minute there was a COO, now she was like clear transparent glass.

She made a mental note to thank the cleaning team for their discretion, and as she thought of how efficient Mike had been, his voice came traveling from the office next to her. She stepped over to the side, seeing Harvey, Mike and Rachel through the closed glass door, laptops and papers spread over the couch, empty coffee cups and half eaten danishes sat on the center table. They'd been there for a while, her eyes diverting to the clock handle that hadn't even reached 8am. There was no need to ask what they were working on. Suddenly it was like her soul had started to awaken.

Harvey was quick to open the door, half smile greeting her.

"We weren't expecting you to be here so early," he said, looking at her visibly emotioned eyes that blinked faster than necessary.

No words measured up to how grateful she was to see their faces, so she went with sarcasm instead.

"I hope you're not working on that sleep deprived," she said with strong furrowed brows.

"We slept enough to rest our minds and boost our confidence," Mike answered in a perfect short pick me up directed at her.

"And I hope it's ok that we started without you, we wanted you to rest a bit more," Rachel said shuffling some papers out of the way and grabbing a pastry box. "Care for one?"

Donna chose what looked like a raspberry cream mille-feuille and took a bite, hanging her bag on an empty chair. Maybe if she were busy chewing she'd manage not to cry.

None of them said a word until she swallowed, waiting for her to digest what she had just walked into.

"Ask me what you need to know," she spoke to the room.

Mike and Rachel instantly looked at Harvey in a move that seemed rehearsed, and he immediately understood they wouldn't be volunteering to begin this so called interrogation. It was the last thing he wanted to do in the moment, his body still hurt after the hours spent on the stiff couch. He had needed a few glasses of cold water after she walked to her bedroom the night before, and a lot of self control to not kick her door open and kiss her again. One broken door was enough for a lifetime.

The blanket smelled like her, little by little the scent had helped him relax until he eventually fell asleep. But It felt like he closed his eyes for only a minute, waking up at dawn and heading home, not a damn second to waste. This was keeping him from having her and not even fate could stop him from having it all.

"Harvey?" he heard Mike call and took a deep breath. He owed her a professional approach, at least right now, to make it up for the previous night.

"You said that was during college. Correct to assume you were not a minor?" He tested the water. Start easily, no harm no foul.

"I was not," she kept her answer simple.

"Were you 21? Was there alcohol served?" He continued along the edges.

"It's a strip club, of course there was alcohol. But we weren't allowed any. None of us...minors," she added coldly and Harvey had to blink images away.

"Not being allowed is one thing, not actually drinking is another," his lawyer mind was there to prioritize objectiveness.

"I was 19, but I did not drink, Harvey. I know where you want to go with this, but we wouldn't be able to prove it even if I did," she wasn't a lawyer, but she knew lawyers so well she could see the paths forming in their minds.

"Did the, uh, clients do anything illegal? Any drugs?" Rachel took upon herself to move along Harvey's train of thought, noticing the friction between them.

"How would we ever prove that?" She insisted on the absurdity of their questions.

"Why don't you leave the lawyering to the actual lawyers, Donna?" Harvey intervened. She picked up the slight tone of irritation and shot him a reprimanding look, forcing him to pause for a coffee sip, his eyes darting back to the paperwork.

"She's not wrong, guys. It wouldn't be easy to put any evidence together, unless…" Mike continued for his friend, "I'm assuming you worked with others?"

"Yes, there were a few girls," Donna sighed after her answer.

"Are you still in touch with anyone from that time? Could we ask them questions?!" It was again Rachel's turn to try, but all it did was to spark the rising frustration on her friend.

"Why is that the direction this is going?" Donna finally asked, slightly raising her voice.

"What direction? You mean why we're going criminal?" Mike questioned her.

"Yes, Mike, why are those the first questions the three of you have for me?" She questioned them, eyes moving between the three, settling on Harvey's like a roulette that picks a number.

He stared at her, hesitating, knowing what he would say would make her fear even more.

"He's clean, Donna. No taxes or contract frauds, nothing," Harvey said softly. "So far, he's clean."

She slowly sat on one of the chairs, letting the reality sink in. Her thoughts drifted to decades ago when she first stepped on stage, practicing moves with the girl that brought her in. The mid-afternoon low light broke through the darkroom windows, making the dust visible in the air. The specks seemed to move in slow motion, in their own dance, and lots of different voices echoed between the walls making it hard for her to focus on her friend's words. No clients were in yet, the first days were for learning, observing, and being observed by him.

"We can't waste time, Donna. If there is anything you remember, you need to tell us," Harvey's statement brought her back to the office. He tried his best to sound calm and centered, but she easily picked up on the hidden plea.

"I'll try to think of something," she said, even though she knew there was no need.

As they hit a wall, Rachel collected the papers she had been reading, handing them to Mike. "Here, why don't you read through these again, maybe I missed something. And we could give everything to a financial expert…" she struggled to suggest, but time was of essence.

"You don't mean Louis?" Donna turned her eyes to stare at her. Rachel shrugged, giving her friend a half appealing look. "He _is_ the best one we know," she attempted to reason.

"No. Absolutely not," Donna gave it no chance.

"Donna, Rachel has a point. He's going to have to know about all of this, it's his name on the wall. Plus it'd be worse if he sees…"

"If he sees my pictures on every paper?" Donna finished Mike's words for him, realization of what could happen once again filling her with dread. "We're losing this, aren't we?"

"No one is losing anything," Harvey stopped their interaction, voice carrying power that dominated the room. He stared Mike down in full threatening eagle eyes watching a prey that can't run nor hide. "You two please go ahead and read these papers again and again and find me a goddamn comma I can use to stall until I think of something," he ordered, dismissing Mike and Rachel, taking the role of the hero she never wanted but so desperately needed for years.

"You ok?" he said as they were left alone, sitting back on his chair.

Donna smiled shyly and looked him in the eye, nodding slowly.

"I hope the couch wasn't so bad," she added, still able to draw sweetness in a terrible day and desperately wanting to change the subject.

 _I would have preferred the bed,_ he wanted to say it, but the words stopped on the tip of his tongue. He'd wait for a better moment, settling for a shrug that let her interpret it the way she wanted it. She held his gaze for another second or two, but the change in mood got her to close her eyes tightly.

"Whatever we find, it is going to work, right?" it was more of a faltering request than anything.

"It is," he assured her to the best of his ability. "But for that to happen, I need you to hold down the fort here, I might be a while."

"Where are you going?" she asked, one eyebrow arched, trusting him just enough.

"To see Cahill," he said, "I need him to work with me on this deal and I need it now because that way…" he purposely stopped his sentence and reached for her hand, standing up and making her stand and round the corner of the table towards him, "...we can pick up where we left off."

She shook her head, but he noticed another smile creeping on her lips.

"Harvey…"

" I want to see the end of this sooner than later, Donna," he said, not giving her too much time for a refutation. "You can't lose faith in me."

He could smell her perfume, the same one from the blanket and the memory of the night before was just too strong to not make itself real again. He slowly went in, eyes on her nude color lips, and right before he reached them, Donna slightly turned her chin to the right, offering the side of her face instead. With the tip of his nose resting on her cheek, a sigh of frustration left him as she chuckled at his misery. In a swift move, Harvey slid the tip on his nose across her cheek bones and gently pressed his lips to her earlobe, her scent invading his nostrils as she closed her eyes and shuddered.

"Never," she whispered right as he walked away, inspired and determined.

Back in Rachel's office, the other two finally sat to look at the files again.

"You know what's intriguing? Mike asked.

"What?"

"The fact that this guy had photos of someone that worked for him for a couple of months about 20 years ago?" he answered without wanting to alarm her.

"Well, Donna _is_ strikingly beautiful, but it's almost as if…" Rachel was the one using caution now, but Mike knew she was catching on to his suspicions.

" … as if he knew he might need them one day. Otherwise, how did he know to keep those pictures, Rach? Are you with me?"

" It can't be a coincidence," she was, quickly following her fiance's mind.

"So he kept something like that…" Mike added, snapping the file folder closed.

"...because she could have something on him! Mike, that's gotta be it!" she said, eyes wide in excitement and curiosity.

"But why now?" he asked, puzzled. "It doesn't make sense to wait so long."

"Because now she has a lot to lose," Rachel explained. "That's not the most pressing question, though."

Mike raised his eyebrows to Rachel, knowing the real answer they needed was a full disclosure of whatever happened two decades ago.


	10. Scarlet

Hi readers! I know, I know, I owe you all an apology again for taking so long to update! I am sorry, you guys have no idea how I wish I could write all the time. Sometimes inspiration doesn't come, sometimes it comes at work and I'm teaching, sometimes it comes and I sit and write.

I did that for this update. I wrote and deleted and wrote again. I reviewed it a million times. I changed my mind another million. Because I do warn you, things get VERY DELICATE to discuss on this chapter. So here is your WARNING for any potential violence trigger. Read it, and when you get to Donna and Rachel's conversation, stop it.

If you get to the end, I do hope you like it. I do hope you take a minute to write me a review, because I can tell you I come back to those few when I wanna give up.

Thank you for still reading, always.

B.

Scarlet

 _It was almost 4 o'clock when the bus finally reached its destination down the shore. The air-conditioner had been malfunctioning the whole ride, on and off at different times, making her cheeks show two pink circles. Her hair was up in a thick, messy bun, sweat making a few strands stick to her neck, just as the black leggings did to her thighs, a choice she already regretted. She still had to walk to the casino, about two or three blocks away, so she stepped off of the tall ladder, school books on her backpack and a small duffel bag with clothes for the weekend._

 _The more she told herself to look brave, to suck it up and lift her head, the heavy weight of her belongings added to the heat and the shame brought her face down to stare at her feet. She knocked on the back door, as they had instructed her, noticing that part of the red paint peeled off and glued to her fingers. Everything looked hot, old and dirty. Another girl, bleached blond hair and a tan line she knew it'd be impossible for her to ever get, opened the door without a word, walking away right after. Turns out there was lots of politics in these clubs. She wasn't wanted there, it wasn't hard to tell._

 _She could dance and she was flexible, years of ballet and tumbling to thank for. She had fair, evenly toned legs, and abs that could hold a long plank pose. Her breasts filled a size C bra, the freckles visibly decorating her chest and arms. Her hair's natural red color was a full hand of cards at the end of a game, the one that wins all the bets. Then there was the sweet, innocent air from a Connecticut rich girl, all adding to the involuntary pristine virgin looks. She was money._

 _It was a part, a character, she convinced herself when she stepped on stage for the first time, one she'd play for entertainment of others just like any other theater play. Standing next to the pole, while the room was still empty, she closed her eyes and grabbed it, shaking it to test for steadiness. With her back lined up against it, she lifted her arms above her head, gripping the pole firmly and pulling both her legs straight up, knees parallel to each other. Once, twice, three times. Then once again with her legs opened in a v shape. Next she turned to face it, placing her right hand on it, around chin height like her friend had explained. She got it immediately, it was physics, that hand was going to hold her in the air. Her left hand slid up and without much thinking she jogged around it for a step or two, jumped and pulled herself up, spinning on its axis, right leg wrapping around it until she slowly lowered herself to the ground, left leg extended in front of her. The next move was all about her core. From the floor she only partially squatted with her right leg curved, forming a square angle with her thigh and knee. Then she lowered her left hand to the floor for support, and with all her strength threw her legs open in an 180 degree split one arm handstand, right hand on the pole for balance, ribs lined up to the shining structure. It was a duet, not a solo dance like many believed._

 _While she worked to hold the pose, the first dollar bills were thrown right in front of her face, almost making her collapse. Her left arm shook like bambu holding the weight of her body and she folded the right leg to touch the floor, quickly picking herself up , hair falling on her back._

 _She stared him in the eye, panting._

" _Why d'ya stop?" He questioned._

" _You distracted me," she said, regretting it immediately._

 _He scoffed, then shook his head at the naivety of her answer. That was the business._

" _That was fantastic for only the second weekend," he said, smirking. "You can keep that."_

 _She lowered her look, catching sight of the green pieces of paper next to her feet, resisting the urge to kick it right back._

" _Two shows on the main floor tonight," he told her. "Then I want you in the private diamond room after midnight," he added, and she realized this was why he had come._

" _Why?" she dared. "That's Shana's room. It's Friday."_

" _Not tonight, it isn't," he answered with his back to her. "And soon I'm taking you on a trip."_

 _She felt her blood rush down all at once, fear lodging on the pit of her stomach, body suddenly wobbly against the metal._

II.

He tossed the folder with Riggs information on Cahill's desk, free hands sliding into his pockets and chest puffing with the best immediate confidence a man can summon.

It didn't take Cahill a long time to understand this was an unusual encounter.

"You know the answer, Harvey," he said after just glancing at the first page, eyes immediately back to his computer screen.

"Sure I do," Harvey shrugged him off, expecting that exact reply. "And I came here to ask you what I need to do to change your mind."

Cahill shook his head. Harvey's arrogance would always be infuriating.

"Your mistake is to assume you can," he retorted with a shot straight to the ego.

"Well, that's what I do, Sean. I make people change their minds and I'm good at it. I'd say _your_ mistake is to dismiss me without getting something in return," Harvey said, a reply purely used to hide his anxiety as much as possible.

Showing his game plan on the first move was something Harvey never did. He hated not having a trick up his sleeve, or a suggestion to drive the other man in the right direction, but he was playing for time. And for her.

"Wait a sec…" Cahill caught on. "So you'll owe me one?" the question came with an air of mockery and disbelief, albeit it sounded like anticipated victory as well and _that_ usually was a part of Harvey's schtick, not his adversaries'. "This is a favor then?"

 _It goddamn was._ "I prefer to call it a trade," Harvey refused Cahill's idea mostly for his own good, because in his dictionary a favor put him in an inferior position. A trade was done between equals.

Cahill stopped typing and turned his head slightly to the side, finally looking at Harvey in an attempt to observe his demeanor, to find a signal, a giveaway that would help him decide if he should pursue the negotiation or send him on his way. The period right after Summer was usually full or mergers and acquisitions, companies pushing to close deals by the end of the third quarter, the piles of work on his desk a clear reminded that this better be meaningful because time was short and expensive.

But Harvey Specter's businesses were always worth a pause. If not that, then his reputation of a rule bender wasn't something to ever be ignored, and neither was his power, Cahill knew. This could be a pitfall, or an easy bet.

"Usually I come after your clients, Harvey," he theorized out loud as he searched for a confirmation that something was out of ordinary. "But today you show up in my office _wanting_ me to look at this guy and, what, simply put a word to pass a millionaire merger?"

It was Harvey's turn to scoff in realization of the absurdity, his answer exactly the opposite of what Cahill expected.

"Plain and simple, Sean? Yes." He conceded.

That got Cahill up from his chair. He walked to the front of his desk and leaned backwards, resting on it while he created possible scenarios to justify this offer. He passed the pages in the folder, giving them a more attentive look. Seconds went by without any of them saying anything, Harvey just stood, watching Cahill and playing with different outcomes in his head, predicting his next argument. The next move was crucial wherever it came from.

Harvey wasn't usually that easy to read. In fact, he was always an excellent player, who never granted an advantage to his opponent unless his next move would certainly win it all. _So there's probably a catch,_ Cahill thought. He would find out what it was if he said yes. But maybe that was the catch itself, for him to think that he shouldn't take the deal and miss the opportunity of having Harvey goddamn Specter owe him a favor. This wasn't about Cahill having a price. Everyone had a price, he and Harvey saw eye to eye on it. This was about how much Harvey was willing to pay.

"How high can I go until you fold?" he decided to challenge him, knowing that asking the million dollar question was a naive move, but nothing to lose so far.

"This isn't how the game works, Sean," Harvey raised his voice, starting to lose his faux calmness. "Don't make me think you're not worth my bet."

"Fair enough," he agreed but refused to be ridiculed, "but you're the one that needs to play, Harvey."

By the deep breath Harvey took and the annoyed look when he exhaled, Cahill felt luck turning his way. This is how he could control the game because one simply can't play alone.

Harvey met him with silence, holding whatever fiery comeback had filled his mind. It was enough for Sean to realize he was definitely off his game.

"You must be in some deep shit, man," he nodded to the general truth that was going to lead him to have the upper hand, regardless of Harvey's plans.

But being in an inferior position wasn't something Harvey could bare for too long. Harvey Specter did not wait and did not beg.

"Will you consider it or not?" he urged one last time.

Cahill opened the folder once again, focusing on the seven figures at the bottom. He lifted his eyes to look back at Harvey.

Vulnerability always demanded caution, especially if felt on the other side. So Sean refrained from prying beyond business out of respect for his rival. Neither of them liked an easy fight, but yet he needed more.

"What does he have on you?"

"Nothing that you need to know," his response was dry but Sean wasn't a newbie.

"You think I'll go in this deal completely blind?" Sean laughed again. "This isn't how the game works, Harvey. "

Whenever the opposite side used his own rules, his own words as a move, he usually saw nothing but red, spitting something back or walking away. But at the moment that wasn't the red he was focused on.

Very few people knew how Harvey hated having to ask for cards to complete his hand. He liked winning from the start.

"It's personal, Sean," he shared bleakly, against his will.

Cahill waited to see if Harvey was going to offer him more than a line, but he didn't, not verbally.

"You're gonna have to give me more than that if you want me to _really_ look at it," he pushed further.

For the second time that night he watched his rival draw a deep breath in.

"It's Donna," the words came out a second later, to Cahill's surprise.

Nothing more needed to be said.

This wasn't a game at all.

Leaving the SEC building, he leaned on the door while waiting for his driver, loosening his tie as he struggled to organize ideas dropping in. Nothing seemed doable in due time, every plan seemed too small, every attempt depending on too many factors, every day felt like a month and every hour suffocated him, suddenly the tie was off completely.

Stuck in the city's gridlock on Canal street and Broadway, he raised his hand questioning Ray's decision on the route.

"Why not West side highway, man? I can walk faster than you drive through Soho!"

The motionless feeling extended to a literal meaning, way more than he was willing to accept.

"It would be the same!" Ray replied, also wishing he could go faster than 15 mph. "School is back, more cars, more buses, more people driving," he justified with a superiority air that stated _you got no kids, you wouldn't know._

Just as he felt he was losing the millionth argument of the day, his phone lit up with an email from Cahill.

" _I'll work on it. Talk soon."_

Air finally seemed to make its way through his nostrils as he looked out the window hoping for the best. Except _to hope_ was something he absolutely did not believe in.

She was gone by the time he got back to the office, a post-it note on his table read in her hand writing "Update me later? 8pm my place?"

He folded it into a small square and placed in his pocket, the grin of hours before growing back on his face.

III.

Donna hadn't even been home for half an hour when Rachel repeatedly rang her doorbell, holding a bottle of riesling close to her chest. The red haired opened the door with a smile that carried joy and surprise, wondering to which side she would sway.

"Did we have plans?" she asked, slightly tilting her face at her friend. With the day she had had, it was totally possible she would have forgotten.

"Not really," Rachel answered briskly, unapologetically stepping inside without an invitation. "But I don't need a plan to see my best friend, do I?"

"Uhm, no," Donna said, feeling bad for how she had greeted her. "Of course not, Rach."

"Glasses?" the brunette said without even putting her bag down. "Please?"

Donna moved slower than she should have, still taken aback, pretending to 'find' the wine glasses claiming to have recently reorganized the kitchen cabinets. The nervous edge on her friend's voice was worrisome, much unlike the calmness she usually conveyed.

"Did you come straight from work?" She had noticed the same outfit, then realized she hadn't had time to change either.

"Yes, and I told Mike not to wait up. I just need to go over the wedding stuff one more time, and the rehearsal dinner things, make sure we're not forgetting anything. I also... just...I feel like we haven't _really_ talked in a while, you know?"

She certainly did _not_ know. Rachel trusted her to execute basically every request on the wedding list, and that was because she could. They had tirelessly checked every item before their minds were consumed by the latest events. Their last wine night was not long ago. So no, none of what Rachel said made any sense, something new had happened to be the motivation behind the impromptus visit. There were two weeks left for the wedding and this looked like an emergency.

 _Maybe it's wedding jitters_ , she tried to shrug it off.

"Did something happen between you and Mike?" Donna went straight to the most obvious question, trying to not let Rachel notice her puzzled face.

"No, no, not at all," Rachel quickly tried to dismiss her before the conversation went on to a different path than she had planned.

"Okay, good," she paused, holding a bit of a forced smile. "He didn't...end up inviting that girl to the wedding, did he?" She moved past her friend, calculating the steps and words not to upset her.

"What girl?" Rachel tried to make sense of it, getting caught on her own lie.

"Last time I was at your place, you answered Mike's call and he was asking to bring his ex-girlfriend to the wedding, remember?" Donna set the glasses on the table purposely not looking at her friend. Not yet, at least.

"Oh! Right! No, he...uh, he totally understood how crazy that sounded," it was hard for Rachel to hold a straight face after being busted so easily.

Donna stared at the bottle of white wine, nodding slowly as she then gazed right into Rachel's eyes with a bleak smile.

"You know what else sounds crazy?" She raised her eyebrows.

"What?" the other one practically whispered.

"The fact that you think I don't know something happened for you to come unannounced, talking a mile a minute, claiming yow wanna discuss wedding and dinner when one, we already did this; two, nothing is wrong between you and Mike and three, you better _be 100% sure_ I didn't forget anything, Rachel Zane, since when do you not trust me?" The tables had turned.

"Okay, but…" Rachel's attempt to save herself was in vain.

"Plus…" Donna continued, merciless. "You came right after work bringing the sweetest wine you could find, one you don't even like, which makes me think you are trying to ease your way into finding information like the great lawyer you are. But It is cute that you think you can lie to me," she smiled widely, ending on a better note and adding the praise to the best of her Donna abilities.

Rachel let out the breath she held during the time it took for Donna to figure her out. She dropped her head backwards in defeat.

"You got me, " she shrugged and placed the bottle on the table. It was her turn to grab the wine opener in silence, using the time it took to pop the cork and fill the two glasses to formulate her next move, to analyze the best way to go at it.

But it was the question she heard that fueled her courage.

"What happened, Zane?" Donna asked softly.

Rachel calmly took a sip and as the liquid rolled down gently, the confidence rose to stead her voice.

"That, my loving friend _,"_ she said, in an unheard tone, "is precisely my main question to you."

Donna's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Maybe she had not figured Rachel out entirely.

"What do you mean?" she hoped for one last time tonight wasn't about her.

This isn't supposed to look like a deposition. _Start gently, nicely, in a non-accusatory tone_ , Rachel had decided on the way there.

"I'd like to hear more about your relationship with Biggs 20 years ago."

It was Donna's turn to reach for the glass and take a sip, the wine suddenly a necessity. She blinked quickly to summon an appropriate response but couldn't avoid the overwhelming feeling the hidden questioned prompted.

"Look at me, Donna," Rachel pressed, stern yet sweetly, noticing the dance in her friend's eyes. "Why is he back after so long?

 _Rachel Zane, you'll make a_ _fine lawyer alright_ , it was the only thing Donna could think when put against the wall. She swallowed the lump on her throat, knowing it was too late to dissolve Rachel's speculation, but not too late to dismiss her.

"I think you should go," she managed to whisper.

Women tended to always find their match on a guy, celebrating when they were looked at as equals. Donna stood up to (and stood with) Harvey, Katrina always rose with and against Louis, Rachel loved and tested Mike, and each one of those victories deserved fucking fireworks. But in that kitchen, in that moment, it was a double win for feminism as Donna knew her most powerful counterpart, the one to come to her apartment to rush her pulse with questions was the young lawyer she called best friend.

Rachel had come prepared for the initial resistance. Arms crossed on her chest, she simply shook her head.

"I, uh, I'm tired. I'm sure you are, too," Donna insisted, slightly annoyed, walking back towards the hallway, ready to point to the door.

"You'll have to forgive me, Don," Rachel said, giving Donna the illusion she was finally coming to her senses, when in fact it was just the opposite. "But I'm not going anywhere until you tell me everything there is…"

"There is nothing to tell, Rachel!" She interrupted her on a higher tone and walked back to the kitchen, leaning against the counter and staring into the sink. Rachel hated that she had to be the person to pry out the information. Talking to Mike earlier, they realized she had no option. _You go, I'll keep digging_ , were his words. Mike didn't want to overstep, wouldn't have any excuse to even let himself in, fearing the conversation would undeniably become too delicate given the nature of the pictures. _Do we tell Harvey?_ He had proposed, ever so loyal. She had voted against it. _Sixth Sense_ , Rachel had said when Mike disagreed. _I have a feeling Donna will want to tell him herself, whatever it is._

"You can't expect me to believe you when everything about your behavior says otherwise," she added, regaining focus.

It was a fact, handed nicely to the one who was the master of observation. It left Donna speechless, giving Rachel space to step further.

"We are trying to help you," she softened, because that was her style, her personality, and this was still her best friend.

"Does Harvey know you're here?" Donna snapped, hurriedly carrying her glass to the living room, wine dripping on her hand.

"No, Harvey…" Rachel tried to speak, but was abruptly cut.

"Doesn't even know you're here? Earlier today it sure felt like we were a team!"

Rachel scoffed. _The nerve._ Now _she_ was getting tired.

Donna was always hard to break, this was beyond the spam of what they shared, but it shouldn't matter. _Change of strategy._ This wasn't about their relationship anymore, it wasn't about trust. If she had learned one thing at Specter Litt was when to not let her emotions cloud her judgement. The inquietude of Donna's looks, the hostility in her words, the worried questions from that morning in Harvey's office, how she had been distracted throughout the day, it was all right in front of Rachel's face. Yea, she could read people too.

"You wanna talk about being a team? So why don't you work with me and tell me why your story is not adding up?" her hands flew up to intensify her question.

"Excuse me?" Donna hissed her outrage.

"Why is he after you?" Rachel demanded an answer again, walking closer to where Donna stood.

 _Stop._

"What happened between you two?"

 _No._

" _Donna?"_

A flashback frame of years ago invaded her mind, completely shocking her. The effort to bury it had been much too intense to be wasted. She shut it down, taking her energy to walk fast and swing the door open. "You need to go!"

 _I'm simply doing my job_ , Rachel told herself, channeling every interrogation and deposition she had watched Jessica lead. Now it was about being the professional her client needed her to be more than the compliant half she always had been. Either the truth was told, or they were at a dead end road. Black and white directions perfectly divided through logical arguments her mind had traced.

"Not until you talk to me," she said in all seriousness she could impose without letting her frustration get in the way. "You need to let me in."

She watched Donna's grip on the door start to slide, her breath picking up pace, and against all her heart's order to stop, she knew this was for Donna's own good.

"Why would Biggs save those pictures for two decades when he couldn't have possibly known he'd want to merge back then?"

Trapped in the multiple flashbacks that now flooded her mind, only later that night did she wonder how she had ended up on the couch with Rachel by her side. One minute she was standing by the door, hearing her friend's words open the dam she had spent the last twenty years trying to drain, the next she tasted the salt of the long lasting stream of tears. Memories had swept away any resilience left. One after the other they rushed to drown her, raining with the thought of each unwanted hand, each piercing finger and the forced kisses. It scared her how her body had suddenly felt exactly the same as it did in that room, as if she were under the effect of an unsafe dose of xanax and wine while her glass sat full on the table.

The silence was recognizable and deafening. She heard nothing then, nothing now, even though Rachel's lips moved with what probably were comforting words. Every time her eyes closed, she hoped she would just fall asleep, rest forever sheltered in a black curtained room of closed eyelids, but instead they threw her right back to feeling each freckle on her chest burn with his callous skin and the hot breath out of his mouth dragging through her body. She felt a puddle of bile rise and her throat held it back, swallowing it down to wash over the fear of then and now. She remembered looking at her own trembling hands and limp legs, internally screaming at them to push, kick, slap him or kneel him where it hurts, finding any way to get her out of there, only to fall in despair as her impulses remained numbed, unanswered. _No. Stop._

 _In my head I was screaming, I was yelling 'no,' but I heard nothing._

Instead the walls only got smaller and darker as the red light flickered like her resolve. Red was the dominant color painted in her brain, for her hair that he praised, the bra and underwear he nearly ripped, and finally her bloody teeth as he stepped back with a hand on his left ear. The fingers that cupped her breast were then marking her face.

She thinks Rachel can hear her, she isn't sure she is saying anything out loud or just reliving it, but her friends' wet cheeks gets her to hope she is actually talking this time. For the first time.

She breathes in and holds it until she's sure the entire movie has been replayed, letting it out slowly. But the nineteen year old in her knew. And the forty year old Donna is just as sure now, as she was at twenty five, at thirty, as she will be at fifty or seventy, that this is a horror movie with unlimited reruns.

Suddenly she's brought back to her living room at the sound of a scream, a loud plead to a name that doesn't exist in her memories. It isn't her voice, it's Rachel's.

"Harvey, wait!"

Donna's eyes open to see him running away, both hands in fists, followed by a loud, hollow noise of him violently shutting the door she had never closed.


	11. Stoned Mockingbirds

Stoned Mockingbirds

There's an implicit assumption that a person's brain will always know what to do when facing an emergency situation. People like to think they'd know what to do. The more trained a person is, the more appropriate the response will be. Trauma doctors, first responders, firefighters, police officers, Homeland Security Agents, even PRs, all of them have a very steady reaction nerve to respond with fast thinking and an objective plan. It's called the fight response. Looking the enemy in the eye and detailing the course of action. Moving forward.

Opposite to that there's flight, meaning a person takes off, they escape when facing danger. It is sometimes seen as a superior move if you aren't sure the best defense is offense. It can be your only chance of survival: outrunning your enemy. You run away, as fast you can, and you don't look back. You hide.

But there's a third option that many don't even recognize it as one. Some people simply freeze. They neither bolt nor they bite. In the case your feet get cemented to the ground, face the fact that your survival chances are considerably lower, that your enemy's advantage increases dramatically the deeper you sink. It's like quicksand, you feel helpless. If you run, they'll catch you; If you stay, they'll catch you. So you close your eyes, and you hope they miss.

Harvey ran down the stairs, just knowing he had to move, unsure of the direction, his feet didn't even feel like they were touching the ground. He couldn't hear another word, couldn't stay looking at her fragile face. He felt as if he was on some sort of hallucinogen, his mind not concentrating on a single thought and the reality he was used to completely distorted, the images she was describing taking his breath away. The more he walked the more his stomach turned and he suddenly was downing the whiskey of earlier that night in a garbage can a block away. Again. A passerby handed him a few tissues but kept walking, and Harvey was at least thankful this was New York City and no one would ask him for explanations. He could continue to walk aimless with no one to care.

But he wasn't the only one restlessly moving.

"Mike! Thank God you answered fast!" Mike was one of the people that could quickly reach Harvey, and right now he was the only person since the other influence on Harvey was in the exact same plotted-on-the-couch position of minutes ago.

"Rach, what happened?" he had picked up on the first ring.

"I don't have time to tell you the whole...stoooorm," her voice shook, "I need you to go to Biggs' house and make sure Harvey doesn't do anything he'll regret...please tell me you can remember the address!"

"What? Why? Rachel, what is going on?" The questions came flooding his mind even if she had told him there was no time to explain.

"Mike, do you know where it is?" she insisted, getting louder on the phone.

"Uh..yea, yea, Brooklyn, west side of Prospect Park," the memory of the address on top of the file coming easily to his brain.

"Just go! Call me when you're there! " she rushed him.

To clear her conscience, Rachel tried Harvey's phone once again, the call being sent straight to voicemail. He had heard the worst part of Donna's truth, every word desperately running out of her mouth as if they had been stuck for 20 years, a sad clarity in her eyes still gave the events an unbearable realism frightening to listen to. Every woman's cruelest nightmare was Donna's inescapable past.

 _Deep breath in, and hold. 1,one thousand, 2, one thousand, 3 one thousand, 4, one thousand, 5, exhale slowly, Rach,_ she coached herself to slow her heartbeat, repeating the technique three times before walking back to the living room. She swallowed back the tears that wet her eyes just by looking at her friend, and kneeled in front of her, grabbing Donna's hand.

"Mike's on it, ok? He probably just went to a bar, he wouldn't do anything to jeopardize this case," she tried to reassure her, wanting to believe in it just as badly. _But what case did they even have?_

Donna sniffled, rubbing the back of her hand on her nose.

"How long?" she whispered, adding other words after watching Rachel's confused face. "How long was he standing there for?"  
Rachel looked down, then back at Donna, confirming what she feared: "He heard more than enough."

Donna's face burned as a few more tears ran down, her skin feeling raw and swollen.

"I...I didn't mean to be so insensitive when asking you to talk, Donna...I just, I never even imagined anything like this."

" I know," she whispered. "No one does."

"So he kept these pictures because he knew you could go to the police? Because you could go after him?" it was hard to even fathom how Donna had lived with this asphyxiating fear for so long.

"Yes. That. And because he is a sick bastard who has done this more than once, keeping leverage over...victims," Donna offered more of the reality, but Rachel had decided they were done discussing this.

"I'm so very sorry," she continued, her fingers now enlacing Donna's into the the unbreakable bond they shared.

This time they sat in silence, Rachel squeezing Donna's hand as a reminder that she was there, as if the tight hold could instantly bring her back from the images she figured were now more alive than ever. The air felt dense, suffocating even, and Rachel's anxiety actively causing difficulty to breathe. It was impossible to find the right words, she didn't believe anything she said could feel comforting. But sitting there quietly also felt wrong, powerless, like they were caught in an fast moving carrousel that never stopped turning. There was no hug, no arm touching, no tea and no sweetness in the world that could ease her friend's pain, there was no erasing of her friend's memories.

Half of each minute Rachel spent staring at her phone on the coffee table, the other half glancing at Donna, trying to pick up a cue, anticipate a need.

"Call Ray," Donna's voice finally broke through the air.

"Ray?" It took Rachel a second to meet Donna's eyes.

"Harvey's driver. Take my phone, call him. If he doesn't know where Harvey is, tell him not to drive him anywhere," the request came out to show an impressive clear thought process.

Her mind was already on Harvey. Always.

Rachel did as told, the line hardly rang twice before she heard Ray's cheerful greeting. He must really like her, she figured, considering he was not bothered by a late night phone call coming from her number. She introduced herself once he didn't recognize Donna's voice.

"Did Harvey call you? Is he with you?"

"No, Ms. Zane, I took him to Ms. Paulsen's place and he said I could go. Did anything happen?"

"Not certain yet, but listen to me, Ray: If Harvey calls you to drive him somewhere you don't know, especially Brooklyn, make up a very good excuse, slash the tires in the car, do whatever you have to do but do _not_ leave. And this is Donna asking. Got it?" she added hopeful that her desperation could be heard through optic cables.

"Yes ma'am, got that but now I'm...what...is he okay? The whole day he just seemed...weird," At this point Ray had learned that any information was useful to lawyers.

"Let's just say that weird is better than what he is now. Talk soon, Ray."

Donna looked up at the end of Rachel's phone call, knowing by the conversation that Ray didn't know Harvey's location. As if on cue, Rachel's phone blinked with a text message from Mike.

"Standing like a creep in front of Biggs. No sign of Harvey. What's the plan?"

She picked up the phone from the coffee table and typed quickly, "Just hang there for now."

She put the device on her back pocket and ignored it when it vibrated again, watching Donna's chest deflate with a long sigh.

Harvey continued to walk, unbothered by the brisk temperatures and cold air hitting his chest. It was fitting, actually, to have nature help numb his pain. Not a single dive bar seemed attractive because there was no whiskey in the city to free him from his anger. He wasn't interested in that, simply because he liked it. He fed off of it. It was too strong, too powerful to be ignored, and while emotions weren't exactly his expertise, he wasn't against using them. In his favor. In her favor. For her.

Time passed, long minutes, maybe an hour or two, and with that the tears dried and the tea cooled, the air less stuffy than before. Mike grew impatient, constantly texting Rachel for an update and for answers, until the noise of one of the messages brought Donna back to herself. She looked up, fingers scraping the remaining wetness on her face, the tips lingering a bit more on the eyes.

"Go home, Rach," she said softly. "And send Mike home, too."

Embarrassingly putting the phone on her back pocket for the hundredth time, Rachel feigned to be unaware of the uncertainty of the situation.

"What? Why are you saying that?"

"Because if Harvey hasn't visited Biggs yet, he won't anymore," she said it with such confidence it was hard for Rachel not to believe it. "Not tonight, at least."

Her first impulse was to ask how Donna knew that, how she could be so sure he wasn't just sitting in at the corner of his house, hiding somewhere like a furious predator waiting for an opportunity to attack, but Donna's knowledge and her ability to read the circumstances were unquestionable, especially if it involved Harvey. Her relationship to him granted her, granted them, a connection no one else could fully see through.

"Can you think of where he could be? I still really think we need to find him," she asked instead.

"No," she shrugged. "But he'll find me when he's ready."

It came to him as he sat on a park bench watching cars fly by the FDR expressway, thinking ifthe only thing we have to fear really was fear itself. His fear wasn't for him, or for the firm, well at least not only. He hoped she knew now more than ever. He played the dialogue in his head, what she'd say when she found out, because he would tell her if she asked. He would not hide. She would scream that _the ends don't justify the means, Harvey!_ Then he would have to respectfully disagree and hopefully she would understand that it was her 'end' they were talking about, it was her pain that moved him, the thought of her in that room was ruling out any doubt. She justified anything. Anything for her.

He moved with the mix of absolute hate and anger, and even fear, all pushing him to get on his Aston martin and drive north. He was done relying on anyone but himself, let alone Cahill. It was impossible to sit and wait, and if all he had was to wait for Cahill's response, that certainly wasn't enough. One 'no' from the SEC and he would never forgive himself for not doing everything in his power to save her. He was used to fighting for his firm, for what belonged to him, and fighting for her was vital.


	12. Happened

Hey everyone,

I know I take forever to post, I'm sorry, but I don't always have the inspiration or the time. I only write when these two align.

This is the beginning of the end.

I hope you're still here and if you are, please leave me a comment. They're greatly appreciated.

Hope you like it!

3

B.

 **Happened**

She split the Xanax in two equal pieces and flipped half of it in her mouth, knowing she'd have to get up in just a few hours. Not much time left to sleep. She let the pill slide under her tongue, tasting the bitterness and feeling it slowly melt. Finally laying on her empty bed, her muscles twitched as she hit the cold sheets, just as uninviting as the flashbacks she continued to have. In desperate need of relief, she tried hard to fall asleep, to push away each memory of twenty years ago, wanting them to be buried back where they laid dormant for so long.

Donna had done it once; tamed the wild horses that inhabited her mind, locked up her feelings and faked the best out of an image until she made it, all the way to legal secretary. Actually, all the way to COO. She had completely reinvented herself, how dreadful it was to be on the verge of having to do it again. ' _I'll go to Canada,'_ she remembered her backup plan, " _buy a farm, ride a horse and teach theater at a local school,"_ she assured herself that she could do anything she put her mind to it. Granted, she'd have to cash in on luck not to have her life sprawled on the first pages of newspapers. Or hope that Canada was far enough. They had no case, and add to that the high chance his anger reaction could absolutely destroy them, it was safer to try to stipulate how many days of work she would have left. She let out a long breath, having cried enough for a day, and turned her pillow to lie on the colder side of it.

Her eyes closed slowly as she went back in search of those specific days when life changed course, and wondered if she could have avoided them. In over 4 decades, there had been lots of decisive moments, those that made her halt and wonder what choices got her where she was now, whether they were hers or not. Her father's financial troubles, her parents' divorce, the first play, moving away from where she had grown up; reinventing herself was a freaking trademark. Changes were the only constant. In the end all she wanted to know was how this absurd movie that was her life would have played out, _if only_ , and that goes against the nature of choices. You don't get to know what you missed.

In all truth, this time she didn't want to reinvent herself because she felt she had finally found her path. Meeting Harvey had been _the_ moment, Donna knew. The one _decision_ she could never regret, the one day she would always want to get to. Here she was, awake at 3:00 am, staring at her ceiling and thinking of him. Harvey now occupied her brain like an vaccine to a life she wished to heal from. Him, and hoping he would walk through her door. She hugged the pillow he had borrowed, eyes closing as she smelled his scent on the fabric.

Funny thing, though, she had always been sure she was fully responsible for their first encounter, drink number one and that initial handshake. To her, they had all been her doing, the checkmate move she used to beat fate. She let out a shaky breath that was a pure mix of laughter and sorrow, because _"my God,"_ she thought, _"I didn't even stand a chance."_

His presence had the power of a tide-turning rip current that pulled her in to the deep end, she was just as far in when she thought she'd be out, and how innocent did she have to be to think she had the reins in this relationship. Harvey felt like the weight of a ton of bricks, and the relief of breaking a car just in time to avoid a crash, at the same time. He gave just enough to suck her right in and too much to anchor her regardless of her will. She had tied her heart in a suffocating yet sweet devotion.

It wasn't really a careful decision.

Harvey Specter _happened_ to her, and he had to have happened forever.

xxx

He made her. He had hired her and worked her into being the best legal secretary New York City had ever seen. He had taught her, dressed her, networked her, created her. All the way to COO, her power, respect and fortune carried his name.

She carried his name to a certain extent. _'A short one,'_ he scoffed to himself.

' _No, Harvey, I'm in this position because I fucking earned it,'_ he had heard her loud and clear that day, and her voice would always play on repeat each time his pompous ass dared to think she hadn't. His current thoughts sounded like the biggest bullshit now, just like they did 13 years ago, and if Mike or Louis heard him they'd say his masculinity was as frail as a flower petal. He stepped on the gas as if it were possible go faster and leave his thoughts behind.

Except Donna never left his mind, he should have learned that by now.

How convenient it had been to deny her power. It was actually imperative he did, a matter of survival his boyish ego demanded. Donna was ready from the start, and Harvey was threatened. All he could do back then was to keep her at arm's length, just close enough to not give himself away completely since the first time he got a scent of her perfume on her neck, on that day he went inside her apartment and should have never left. It wasn't just about how she looked, although _that_ had certainly played a part, he felt it, slightly pulling on his pants where it mattered. She was so much more. _She_ had made _him_. Deep down, as buried as something could get, he knew he never stood a chance, and as much as it was a completely un-Harvey like thing to admit, he did not have the upper hand, had never had _any_ control and if he were really honest with himself, he actually owed her everything.

He felt empowered by her, and not the other way around. In fact, he chuckled at how his will crumbled to ashes like a burning piece of paper if the subject was a fiery redhead. She was more, better, smarter, from the night she eyed him in that bar and he felt his chest tighten in a premature heart attack, to currently driving 100 miles per hour on the interstate, he knew he'd never be the same man. On every issue, every maybe, every problem, she was his certainty. On every win, every half a million earned, every letter of Specter on the wall, it should also say Paulsen.

" _Like I could have chosen not to…"_ he began to say it out loud, _'...love her,'_ his mind continued in silence, betraying him, but it felt so goddamn good to be her hero. She had saved him from himself, it was only fair. It was all love, blind and possessive and fragile. It was all her.

xxx

Her phone buzzed twice, making her wince, not fully out of an unconscious state. She drifted back to sleep, for a minute or five, until two new buzzes startled her again. She stretched her arm and grabbed the phone from the night stand, ready to lash out on whoever decided to text her this early.

" _Were you able to sleep at all?"_

Rachel. Of course. She'd been probably waiting to text her for hours. She'd hate her if she could.

" _Have you heard anything from him?"_

 _No,_ she responded to herself and then proceeded to double check her phone for any missed calls or messages from him. Nothing.

Donna figured she'd actually type her answers to her friend, realizing the time displayed on the screen. 8:00 am. _Shit._ She couldn't remember the last time she was that late for work.

" _He hasn't texted or called",_ she managed to send it before shooting Rachel another text, a demand for a subject change without the rudeness of the night before. " _Please tell Louis I'll be there soon."_

She jumped in the shower as quickly as possible, a bun holding her hair up since she wasn't going to have time to wash it. Nothing that dry shampoo couldn't fix it.

The weather report on tv announced the bitter cold week the East Coast was enduring. _Very fitting_ , she thought, _streets are gonna look like just how I feel._ Not one for pantsuits, she hesitated but ended up pulling black trousers from her closet. A dress wouldn't cut it in the sleety 13 degree mess outside. It was easy enough to match, blouse and a blazer and she would be good to go.

Luckily in the dead of winter her freckles didn't show that much, she didn't have to really worry about hiding them. But the dark circles under her eyes looked bluish on her fair skin, being the first thing that got her attention when she looked in the mirror. She took a deep breath, and began to cover up the past hours.

She would be ready in another five minutes, so calling the uber now was a plan to push herself out the door before she let the discouragement take over. It was just her luck that the soonest a car could be available was 20 minutes. _Freaking New York City in the snow,_ she muttered under her breath. Then an idea popped up and she probably wasted longer than she should fighting it. Convincing herself it was a professional decision, Donna texted Ray, thinking he could be at the parking garage close to the firm. _Maybe he just dropped Harvey off?_ She could at least see if he happened to be around Midtown, meaning a few blocks from her place.

 _It is, quite literally, the middle of the city Harvey,_ she used to say when he tried to understand why she lived there. Ray's response cause a sting in her heart. "Still home, Ms. Paulsen. Haven't heard from him since last night." This hadn't been about getting a ride at all. It was when she saw Rachel's text from half an hour ago, finally reading it. _"Don, It's Saturday."_

Her image on the mirrorlookedpathetic _,_ makeup and hair done, blazer on one hand and phone on the other, and now nowhere to go. She exhaled loudly and plopped herself on her bed, feeling even more unprepared for her day. The weekend was here and she didn't even realize it. At least she wasn't late, Louis wouldn't ask questions she didn't know the answer to. _Brilliant, Donna._ She kicked her heels back towards the closet.

It didn't take long for the relief wave she had felt to turn into a whole ocean of anxiety. Free time wasn't exactly what she needed at the moment, work would have kept her mind busy. She technically could go in, though nothing was that urgent that couldn't wait until Monday. _Well,_ she snickered at the irony of her thoughts. Nothing except her own career, her reputation, the name of the firm, just to name a few. Surviving the fact they hired a fraud had been hard enough, wait til they found out they hired a fraud _and_ a stripper. Indeed, _comic if not tragic_ , the phrase ran through her. If she already hated even the slightest assumption that she had slept her way up, once the entire country could see her pictures in lingerie, that would no doubt be in everyone's minds. And drawers. And bathrooms and waiting rooms.

Unfortunately it was too early for wine, she figured a hot coffee could help ease her doomed thoughts. Once she reached for the grounds, she spotted her favorite mug tumbled over in the sink. The night he made her promise to fight came back to her, the memory of the kiss inevitably following. _"We can fight this, but I need you,"_ she heard his voice again, and couldn't help but to think she was the one that needed him. There was an essential loneliness that burned tighter in her chest now that she knew what she had sought.

xxx

This was definitely not the best of his plans. The yard was quieter than he remembered but the weather was probably responsible for some of the emptiness. It's not like people would sit on the benches, or even on the grass, as sleet mixed with the old dirty snow already on the ground. He figured he would walk to Austin Hall, it'd be better to find an excuse being there. He grabbed his phone to look up if he'd walk left or right, it had been way too long since his time, but before he unlocked the screen, Harvey noticed the day under the time. Saturday. He bit the inside of his cheek, controlling his anger. _It's freaking Saturday_ , he thought, his next step completely unknown at this point. _No wonder no one is around._ _Brilliant, Harvey._ The weekend was here and he didn't even realize it.

If the universe really sent us clues, Donna would say this was a giant red hexagon right in front of his face. Too bad he didn't believe in them. The usual sense of rationality kicked in, making him think practically. That was Harvey at his best, beating the odds, moving past the stop signs without caution. Walking to his car instead, he retrieved the magazine from the back seat. As he opened it to the pages of his article, her email was there, just as he thought it would be, so he chose his words carefully to denote a casual tone, unlike his actual clear intent.

" _I'm in town until tonight._

 _Meet me at The Sinclair, 7PM._

 _Need to discuss something with you._

 _H. Specter"_

Sent.

Now it was a matter of time.

The thought was to look professional, but somewhat playful. It was useless to pretend not to be attracted by him, he was incredibly handsome, whether it was the age difference or the power. It was probably both, together with the jawline and the suits. He made her sweat.

Getting his email had been the biggest surprise of the week, probably of the semester, and any chance to keep riding the tide of her article was worth it. Classmates had asked her how he was, chased her around school, curious about the offices, interested in the _off record_ comments. It was glory for a girl who desperately wanted to make herself independent from her father's money.

Getting closer to him was a one-time chance.

"You made it," he feigned the broadest smile. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Uh...sure," she replied, not without Harvey noticing the hesitation.

"You don't tell me anything I shouldn't know and I won't end up in jail for it, how's that?" he raised an eyebrow and offered her a seat, asking the waitress for a cabernet and single malt, neat, because this night had to be over as soon as he had what he needed.

"I was very surprised when I saw your email, Mr. Specter," she offered the information and the thought that immediately followed was that he felt the same way.

The pronoun of choice made him feel old...much old _er_ , because he was, at least compared to her. "Harvey," he corrected her.

"What brought you back to school?" she said with a smile. A very likeable girl, sweet, leaning over the table in a semi provocative way, but the arms crossed in front of her spoke on her need of protection.

"A case," and his response could not have been less than well thought of, a sign of his lack of preparation. "But let's not talk about my work…"

"Because you can't", she finished for him, naming _attorney-client privilege_ as the reason. She, wanting to show off and he, glad that she gave him the out.

"You said you needed to discuss something," she spoke again, mentally cursing herself for the bubbling anxiety that made her talk too fast. But she had spent hours wondering if anything on the article was wrong, if she said anything she shouldn't have, there was only so much a girl could take.

"First I need to say thank you," he sipped his drink, wetting his vocal cords to continue. "For my article. It was really nice to be back on those pages, and it's all thanks to you."

One compliment and she blushed. He breathed a bit easier, confidence rising above the doubts of the chosen method.

"Second, I'd like you to thank you friends at the Business Review, for the profile on Donna. She was really happy with it and frankly, she needed it," he added, driving the conversation to an even more personal level.

"Did she send you?" Jen asked, eyebrow raised as she pried carefully.

He shook his head. "She doesn't know I'm here," he purposely confessed, feeling forced to open a can of worms.

"I probably shouldn't ask...but _should_ she know you're here?" she used her tongue to wipe the wine on her lips and Harvey looked right at it. The plan was exactly to let her believe he noticed her tactics, make her feel noticed on many levels.

Donna should know where he was and what he was doing. She should show up and drag him out of that bar, slap his face to make him realize how stupid this was, how low he had gone. She should yell he wasn't this kind of man, make it clear she did not intent to share a bed with an unscrupulous player. She probably _would_ do all that, but it would be done by then.

"She's my coworker, not my wife, if that's what you're asking," he smirked.

"I'm sorry," she lowered her gaze. "I thought your request to get her a profile was unusual, figured it was very telling..." she really went there, a shrug right after her words to fake casualty.

"I'm a man who knows how to recognize a woman's value," he cut her off from the Donna subject, that had definitely backfired. This conversation had to be about Jen feeling special. "Which is the third reason that brought me here."

 _Probably under twenty,_ it was his next realization. Sure, he had had his encounters with girls not that much older, but the intent for deception wasn't the trigger.

Her eyes lit up.

"Okay," she said, taking a sip of her wine. " Is it business, or is it personal?"

This time the shame was overwhelming. He let his chin turn slightly towards his chest, his look moving to a napkin on the table.

Luckily Jen was not good at reading people like Donna. Not even close.


	13. An eye for an eye

_Hey guys, this chapter took forever to write and edit. It was hard to get facts straight, to try to make sense of things and to decide when to post. I think the finale deserves a chapter. It is a bittersweet day._

 _Thank you so much for all the follows, favorites and reviews. You guys deserve all the gratitude for continuing to read this and for waiting so patiently._

 _And just so you know, I will continue this to the end. And maybe more._

 _Feel free to add or comment on Tumblr. I'm Bexthinks._

 _Much love,_

 _B._

An eye for an eye

Worst thing about planning a wedding is that no matter how many things you cross off your list, there's two more you haven't quite completed. Everything was mostly done, but Donna had slacked off the last week or two, caught up in the whirlwind of her own life.

Being home on a Saturday ended up being a much needed blessing, one that made itself evident as she fired up her laptop and clicked on her personal email. It only took a few seconds for dozens of messages to load. "No, some of the lilies could NOT be silk, and no, it was not okay to replace soy for tuna," she felt dizzy as she scrolled down her inbox.

A slight wave of panic hit her, especially after she had reassured Rachel less than a day ago that everything was perfectly fine, catching her friend's less than smooth _let's-talk-about-the-wedding_ excuse to come in and pry information out of her. Information that now _too many people_ had.

She was forced to shake off the dreaded thoughts as her phone ringtone startled her, Rachel calling as if she had read her mind. She put the phone up to her ear barely saying hello, hearing Rachel's alarmed voice on the other side.

"Rach?" she asked, catching a breath. "Slow down, what happened?!"

"My father just called to say he has to go away for this case and doesn't think he can make it back in time for the rehearsal dinner," she said it, still fast enough that Donna took a second to understand. "How can I not have my own father at my rehearsal dinner?" her tone was so high pitched by the end of the sentence, Donna moved the phone away.

"Alright, caaalm down," she worded slowly. "Take a deep breath," she added, slightly annoyed, buying time to try to think of a solution.

Rachel picked up on it and her guilt kicked in.

"I'm so sorry, here I am freaking out over something stupid when your life…"

"Hey, it's not stupid at all," the redhead's now sweeter tone eased her mind. "But you also don't need to freak out because I...I will think of something."

Donna had the power to think fast when people needed the most, but a stressed out bride was new territory for her.

"I tried to negotiate with the man but trust me, Donna, it's a pro bono case in Alabama and he says he'll be back late Friday, but not in time for the dinner and I…" Rachel exhaled her frustration so loudly Donna almost felt a puff of air through the phone.

"When is he leaving, Rach?" she asked, quickly jotting the guest list on a piece of paper, an idea brewing in her mind. It was just the closest friends from the wedding party, plus immediate family, she recalled, shouldn't be too hard to organize it.

"Tomorrow morning," the response came with another loud sigh.

"Well...okay...hum… are you all busy tonight?" She hoped Rachel would get the implication.

"Uh...no, but…" The stammering was a clear indication that the stress was too much for Rachel to follow her train of thought.

"Then we will have the dinner tonight," Donna didn't hesitate. "Can you work that with him?" she asked.

"What?" Rachel double checked on what she heard. That seemed too much work, even for Donna and specially for Donna in her current state of mind, so Rachel really had a hard time getting on board with the idea. "How are we going to pos-si-bly..." she trailed off as her mind tried to think of ways, but came up short.

"I'm gonna do my best to make that happen," Donna assured her with a certainty only she was able to have. "Let me make a few calls. Meet me around noon at DiPietro's."

The adrenaline that came with the situation pushed Donna to be at her best, dialing numbers faster than her phone could process them, giving out orders and quickly deciding on last minute changes.

She briefly smiled to herself as she ended the call with the final 'yes' from the restaurant.

It felt good to be in control of something.

He had gotten leverage, that was a fact, and with the threat of a possible criminal case brought up by Donna he should have enough for a good shakedown. Even relying that New Jersey's statute of limitations was on their side, a case like that was doomed to be draining and revolting. He could still use it against Riggs, but a bluff was still a bluff, win it all or lose it all risk he knew he could handle with a little bit of luck.

But it didn't settle his outrage.

If he were honest, he had to consider that If Donna hadn't said anything back then, had kept the secret for over 20 years, chances were she wouldn't want to say anything now. He knew how she _felt_ about it, even though he struggled to see the _reasoning_ behind her silence. But It wasn't in his nature to understand, the white male he was definitely carried more of an offender's act than a victim's one, especially after what he had just done. Donna didn't have to know. He would cross that bridge when he came to it. Putting an end to this situation was pivotal.

It was what he did, what they did, take down one lion at a time. Right now, the important thing was that it gave him the edge he needed.

Hours after hearing her sob through her words, he wished he had stayed. Knowing she went through that alone, even if it had been before they met, gave him an irrational corroding guilt, one that made him swallow hard and hold back tears. During the whole drive back from Harvard his mind kept inadvertently bringing back the image of that scumbag doing what he did. It had felt like pouring acid straight to his stomach, a horrible disgusted feeling keeping him from being able to breathe properly. He wouldn't have been of any comfort to her.

His protective alpha male brain switched to thinking of any way to fix it, revenge becoming the only thing he could focus on. Yes, revenge, because justice wouldn't do it, and that had brought him to Massachusetts. Harvey knew that if Riggs didn't suffer, that if he didn't come up with something that would choke him for years to come, he would never have peace. Ever.

His thoughts were interrupted by his ringtone, Cahill's name on his screen, forcing him to pull over. _I got something_ , he heard the man say, and Harvey placed him on speaker, lowering the roof of his car unbothered by the cold winter air.

"Talk to me, Sean."

She met Rachel as planned in front of DiPietro's, eyes scanning the private room as the hostess went ahead explaining where everything would be placed.

"...and the salad bar will go here, in the middle, equally accessible to both sides of the room…" said the petite blonde woman, pointing to a central area, but Rachel noticed Donna's forehead scrunching.

"What? Should we not have the salad bar here?" the bride asked anxiously.

"Hmm...it's just that I think that setup might seem too...middle-schoolish? It'll break the flow of the room. You won't be able to see who is on the other side," the answer made perfect sense to Rachel and she slowly nodded, trying to think of where it should go instead.

The hostess held her pen up to the corner of her mouth, staring at Donna, one arm crossed over her stomach holding a clipboard, a look showing her lack of amusement. At this point, Donna figured she was probably thinking something in the lines of _first they move the party up, now they think they can be picky?_ It didn't bother her all that much, but she had to do something about it.

"Is it possible to have it moved to theee rrr..." Rachel began and turned her face to Donna midway through her sentence, in search of confirmation.

"Right side, yes. We don't want to block that gorgeous french door, in case someone needs to head to the patio for fresh air, or in case your dad needs a smoke when he sees the added fees to the bill," Donna threw it in with a less than genuine smile to the hostess, a gentle reminder of the price they were paying for bringing forward the reservation, just in case she needed the extra incentive to comply. "Can we make that happen, Joanna?" She requested.

"I'll see what I can do," Joanna replied, forcing a happy face she reserved for _special_ clients. "I'll be right back."

Rachel chuckled as the hostess walked away.

"Boy, she is not happy right now," the comment was playful, and it would normally have been well received by her friend, but Donna's mind was already away.

Rachel knew she was thinking about him as she caught her glancing at her phone once or twice, but she didn't dare to ask yet. It had been up to Mike to text Harvey about the new date, but Donna secretly expected Harvey to confirm with her.

"So we'd put the salad bar right around there?" Rachel decided to confirm, mostly to bring Donna's attention back to the room.

"Exactly, and I'm thinking your table goes there, east of the salad buffet. Your dad on you left, your mom sitting next to him," she continued, her arm pointing straight as she outlined the seating and Rachel followed. "Mike obviously on your right, then Harvey next to Mike, given he's alive and will show up to this…" she added sarcastically but her voice came out slightly higher, revealing a worried tone underneath it all.

"Donna," it was a simple but empathetic warning. "He's ok. He'll show up," Rachel tried to calm her down, offering a sweet look.

Donna pressed her lips and nodded. Her chest carried a heaviness that weighed more by the minute. Harvey was almost better when he reacted impulsively, when the anger was out of his system with a scream or a punch, or even a flying garbage can to break a glass door. But it was the afternoon, too much time had passed by now, giving him an opportunity to think, to let the fury build up like magma erupting from the core, spitting up destruction for miles.

"And to Harvey's right, I want you, of course," Rachel said excitedly, trying to keep a positive attitude.

Donna shook her head. "I'm not going to…" she protested, but to no avail.

"You're my maid of honor! I need you near me!" this time it was Rachel who raised her tone.

Donna's resolve faltered at her friend's plea.

"You're family. Mike's parents aren't with us, so yes, I want you and Harvey next to him." It was a wholehearted demand hard to pass.

Donna took a deep breath to control her emotions and humour was usually a go-to when she was having a hard time hiding them, so she turned her head slightly to the left, a fake exaggerated gasp escaped her mouth.

"Are you saying that Harvey and I are like Mike's parents?" she feigned surprise and at Rachel's desperate attempt to correct herself, she went further in amusement. "Oh my God, even worse, does that mean you think I'm old enough to be Mike's mom?"

"No," the brunette relaxed and joined in the fun. "But you and Harvey _would_ have incredibly amazing and beautiful children, just like Mike?" she faked a smile and shut her eyes tightly, waiting for the backlash.

She saw Donna's smile falter.

"You sure you want me to sit there even if my reputation is ruined by tonight?" Donna changed the tone, revealing the real reason why she didn't want to get any attention.

Rachel shrugged off her friend's concern. "Don't forget that I'm the one marrying a fraud. It is waaay too late for me to care about a reputation."

There was nothing left for Donna to do but laugh in agreement, but as their laughs subsided, Rachel eyes beamed as she looked around.

"I still can't believe you pulled this off," she added, still mesmerized at the knots Donna untied to fulfill her promise. "I can't thank you enough."

Seeing her friend's gratitude and happiness, Donna was sure that even if nothing else worked for her, she would absolutely make this perfect for Rachel.

"Don't complain if guys suddenly ask if I'll be performing at Mike's bachelor party," she quipped, both of them laughing again as the hostess approached them.

"Salad bar to the right it is," said Joanna as she joined them back in the center of the room.

"Excellent," Donna added chirply. "We'll see you tonight, then."

Even at daylight, when he didn't recall ever playing, the place looked strange. While nothing specific came to mind, something made him feel like he had been there before. Maybe it was the maroon carpet with the big tan designs on it, or the blue light on the rows of slot machines practically screaming for attention, or the distinctive 80's setup: there was an odd familiarity he couldn't quite pinpoint. Something was _off_ and for a second he let his mind get distracted thinking Donna would have been proud of him for even noticing.

But as bizarre as it was, It didn't matter.

He wasn't there for an appraisal.

Harvey was focused on doing what he had to do, not an ounce of hesitation to slow him down.

The irky feeling increased when he spotted the secretary, looking way too young and naive. _Predictable,_ he figured. Judging by her outfit, definitely underpaid. He didn't bother announcing himself, striding past her table straight to the office. When he heard her get up to run after him, Harvey spoke up without even turning around, left hand up the air to stop her. "If you hear what I have to say about your boss, you'll walk out of here without a job," he said loudly. "Ignorance is bliss."

The girl stopped moving and discreetly walked back, sitting down as she cautiously considered Harvey's warning.

"What's your big money maker in a casino?" Harvey said entering the room, his imposing tone dominating Rigg's attention. He didn't need to greet him, nor did he have any respectful small talk intention. In his mind the man was lucky he didn't go straight to his throat. When he saw that Riggs was ready to give an answer, he lifted a finger to stop him from talking.

 _He_ had the word.

"Slot machines, right?"

"The more the...richer," Riggs shrugged, agreeing.

"Because with slot machines," he paused to choose the best words, "winning is unpredictable. As a sleazy casino owner, you capitalize on that. You know that what keeps people playing is the possibility. It's the fact that when they win once, even if it is a false win, it's enough to maintain the behaviour."

Harvey knew this wasn't hypothetical. He was never into them, knowing at a young age they're a fast way to lose money and the return for the player is impossible to weight and calculate.

Riggs cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable with Harvey's knowledge.

"Is this going to take a long time?" He tried to show superiority by feigning uninterest in the facts.

"You know why I don't play slot machines, John?" Harvey reached in his pocket for a quarter and inserted in the hole of the one machine that sat in the office, pulling on the handle and watching as the unmatched fruit lined up on the screen.

"Because luck is obviously not on your side?" Riggs defied, eyes darting to the paper he noticed Harvey holding.

If you didn't know Harvey Specter, you could have considered this a fault in his line of argument. But the direction of this conversation was perfectly clear in his mind. "Exactly," Harvey grinned in agreement. "You see, with _these_ , we don't win enough. And I like winning. I don't play on luck alone," he continued, throwing the paper on the desk.

Earlier that afternoon, Cahil had given him enough information on the phone call to make him sit for a couple of hours at a rest stop, somewhere between Massachusetts and Upstate New York. He had drafted the key points of the deal, a new plan unfolding as he typed. Each moment he dared to doubt his chances, the image of her crying on the couch stopped his resolve from wavering.

His free hands were then in his pockets, chest rising and chin slightly lifted as he waited for the backlash.

Riggs's eyes skimmed the words.

"Issuing an IPO..." he folded the paper in half, a sharp laugh escaping his mouth. "You want me to go public? Is this a joke?"

Harvey raised his eyebrows, looking straight at Riggs.

"I'm not laughing," he shrugged nonchalantly, Riggs's irritation only growing.

"And you just expect me to comply?" He scoffed, unable to control his indignation.

Game on. Harvey was there to lay down one card at a time, ready for the thrill of watching Riggs's empire crumble right in front of his eyes.

"I _know_ you will," he calmly replied, arrogant smirk on his face.

"And If I don't? Because as far as I'm concerned, you are _not_ in a position to threaten me, I still have something you really want," Riggs leaned back in his chair, reminding Harvey of his own leverage, as if he could have forgotten.

 _Pulling out the same single bulleted gun?_ Harvey silently theorized. It was only fuel to his motivation, he had the man right where he wanted him.

"Either merge and issue a public offering of your stocks, or they'll buy you out," he walked closer, lowering his eyes to stare him down.

"And by going public I'll lose majority, Specter? Is this what you're suggesting?"

"Glad you're understanding," Harvey responded. " You get your merger, just not exactly on your terms. You buy World Resort, but you'll go public after that. They're already public and Dan Meyers was thrilled about the idea of raising capital when I suggested to him on the phone."

"You're out of your mind!" Riggs's humour was gone.

"That's the only way the SEC filing will be processed," he gave it to him straight. "Of course there's always a reverse merger?" Harvey raised the question.

"You're offering me two exits and in neither of them I'm in control," Riggs spoke up as the realization sank in. "This is bullshit."

"This…" Harvey paused, taking a pen out of his jacket pocket and offering the object to Riggs. "...is winning."

Harvey was eager to fire his entire cartridge but wanted to enjoy the weight of every piece of information he had against him, to watch the guy's face collapse in desperation, hopefully finally replacing the thought of Donna's teary eyes for the image of a defeated Riggs begging for mercy.

"Don't waste my time, Specter. This is ridiculous," the more Riggs observed how composed the lawyer seemed, the more it irritated him. "I don't care what you have to say. I make the deals here, not you!" he extended his arm to the door, signaling that Harvey was not welcomed to stay.

If the threat didn't involve Donna, Harvey would probably have an ounce of patience to deal with the expected resistance. Knowing what he knew, negotiating was harder by the second. He turned to look around the office, focusing on the next thing he should say, struggling not to use his fists and make this guy pay for the pain he caused Donna. He discreetly loosened his tie to better let the air through, and once again got distracted by how tacky everything seemed, when it suddenly hit him: the wallpaper, the old popcorn ceiling paint, the cheap looking secretary and especially that outdated lobby; nothing corresponded to Riggs' earnings and revenue claims. It didn't add up. A flashback of something Jen mentioned the night before invaded his mind, " _my dad might have money, but he's stubborn as a donkey, he won't take advice from any of us,"_ now made perfect sense. _If he has money, why not invest in his own casino instead of buying another one?_ He asked himself, stopping dead center in the office. _He needs clients fast_ , Harvey thought. The last piece of the puzzle came from replaying Cahill's voice: " _He denied public offerings from three different investment companies, Harvey, that's not common for such a big business that wants to raise capital,'_ Cahill had raised the question. _"I don't know why but I get a feeling that maybe he is afraid of something?_ "

Harvey chuckled, knowing exactly what he was afraid of, and the thought made him sick. He turned on his feet and took a breath.

He could smell the familiar victory air.

"You see, John, you succeeded in one thing that night in Donna's office, which was to get me _**not**_ to think why you would come to me instead of filing for a merger yourself," he began loudly. "I should have seen it right away, I'll give you that."

It was a brief sense of triumph for Riggs to maybe rid him of complete humiliation.

"Coming to think of it, you wanted an SEC carte blanche to merge with World Resort because you wanted to avoid the DOJ possibly getting involved in this. You don't need the money, at least not right now. You have that, you're one of the biggest ones around, but for how long?" Harvey inclined his head, waiting to see any reaction.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Riggs's voice was now lower and Harvey saw him slightly recoil on his chair.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out, just a ten minute walk around this place to see how outdated you are, how your shitty business style will not keep up with the modern complexes popping up left and right in New York State. It's a matter of time for you to lose market, doesn't matter how rich you are. You're going up against dozens," Harvey added.

"Plenty of people that love to gamble, Specter, I'm not worried," Riggs offered, waving his hand to dismiss Harvey's ideas.

"Which is what every Atlantic City casino owner thought before the whole city went practically bankrupt," Harvey offered. "You were one of them, and it's about to happen again. Merging gets you clients, eliminates competition, and your business survives."

Riggs' eyes turned glassy and he blinked quickly to regain focus.

"I'm guessing Scarlet told you about our time in AC," he figured that would rile up the lawyer.

"Her name.. is Donna," Harvey corrected, swallowing dryly, being slightly diverted from his thoughts.

Riggs smiled, knowing he hadn't lost at all. "You heard me well, money isn't a problem here, Harvey," he continued, contradicting the lawyer. "I'm _buying_ another place, not selling. You're not making any sense so why don't you get to the point, if you even have one," Riggs capitalized on how easy it had been to throw Harvey off.

Harvey gave him a stare. He was sick of the attitude.

"You're hemorrhaging clients. Your revenue is steadily decreasing over the last few years. You have money now, but we both know you won't be standing in a decade. So the past five years you sold 17% of our stock to private investors to raise money to merge, promising you'd keep up with the competition if you joined forces. Now you need to keep that promise or your investors will pull out their deals. You searched for private equity in order to _not_ raise DOJ's suspicions nor the media's attention by going public," Harvey nodded as he showed Riggs exactly how many points he had.

"I have…" Riggs tried to intervene.

"THEN you came to us," Harvey got louder, speaking over him. "Because having my firm back you up on a merger is all you needed to gain their trust. No one would trust you and you don't want the fucking attention, you don't want them showing your stupid face on tv or newspaper, do you? You can't have any media channel discussing this merger," Harvey said sharply, getting closer to the desk.

Riggs felt his breath halt suddenly and little droplets of sweat showed up on his forehead.

Harvey grit his teeth noticing he was right on target. He couldn't stop now.

"You don't want to raise any awareness to who you are and where you came from. So your plan was to merge and bring in the other casino's clients while quietly orchestrating how to fly _just_ under the radar," Harvey let it out, not missing a beat.

"There's nothing illegal about that!" Riggs yelled, pushing his chair back and standing in a swift move, but Harvey was hardly intimidated.

"Maybe _that's_ not illegal, but it's shady as hell. Because now you can merge but you don't want the SEC or better, the DOJ looking into it, not because anything is financially illegal, but because you're a motherfucker with a past," Harvey was forced to stop, his breath catching up to his emotions.

Riggs pushed the paper farther away, heading to the slot machine that still showed Harvey's failed trio of fruit on the screen. He opened the bottom of the machine and revealed a safe. For a few seconds, Harvey's vision went dark, in anger and fear, because against a real gun he knew he had no shield. If he walked back, it wouldn't be far or fast enough to hide behind anything. So instead he walked forward and stood by the desk, making sure he could reach Riggs if he tried something, but a sense of relief washed over him as he watched him type a code and open the metal box, picking up a flash drive. He read the word Scarlet in read marker ink.

"If this is what you want, you're going to rewrite this ridiculous proposal and send it to me tomorrow morning," he said, turning around to face him. " Call Meyers. Tell him I won't lose any more shares. I don't care that you know I declared bankruptcy before. Time's up."

Harvey scoffed at the irony.

"You're goddamn right time's up," Harvey whispered and Riggs froze, the reality of _what_ Harvey knew being much darker than his previous financial troubles. "That's right. I _know_ who you are. And I'm not rewriting shit. Hand me the flash drive," he ordered, extending his open hand.

Instead, Riggs opened the drawer to his right and took out a picture of Donna, sliding it across the desk, doing what he could to provoke Harvey, to win a battle he couldn't do with words.

"Is this what you want? I can't blame you. Certainly nice to look at," he grinned.

But playing the man was a Harvey Specter move.

Harvey swallowed hard and pulled up a selfie on his phone. It was a picture with Jen Riggs, the night before at the bar near Harvard.

"I like keeping memories as well," he said, turning the phone screen to Riggs.

Riggs's face turned red.

"What the hell did you do with my daughter?" He barely managed to say.

Harvey walked to circle the desk, feeling his lips twitch with disdain.

"Me?" he joked, smiling broadly. "Nothing bad. On the contrary, I actually offered her a job," he added. "You know, for when she's out of school. She's a brilliant girl."

"Don't involve her in this, you piece of shit!" Riggs lost it, moving the chair away from them and stepping forward, ready to take this fight to another level.

"You involved my family, I get to involved yours," Harvey said, slowly putting the phone back in his pocket without taking his eyes from the man in front of him, fingers twitching on the other hand.

"And you think my daughter will want to work with you once I tell her you're using her to get to me?" Riggs took his phone, but Harvey held his wrist.

"She'll love to know who her father really is," Harvey responded, his own arm forcing the man to put down the phone. He wasn't proud of the leverage he had spent the night working on getting, but he knew that to catch a pig, you have to get dirty. "Donna told me everything. It's over, Riggs," he muttered through his teeth.

"Why would my daughter believe you?" Riggs stood tall. "You have no proof, Harvey!" Riggs spit out, pulling his arm out of Harvey's grab. " And I have plenty of proof of Scarlet's past!"

"Last night Jen looked like she would believe anything I said," Harvey didn't hesitate with the comeback, and in a move he didn't predict, Riggs right jab hit his chin, causing him to stumble back.

"You son of a bitch! Get the fuck out of my office!"

Harvey stood still, staring at the floor until he recovered his balance, his left sleeve wiping the corner of his mouth, a red stain covering the _HS_ initials on his shirt.

"You think I'm not serious about publishing the pictures? Why would _anyone_ believe a fucking stripper? People will _know_ she had it coming," Riggs attempted to play with Harvey's emotions as he realized the lawyer wasn't leaving.

Enough was enough. Harvey flew over at him in three quick steps, hands grabbing the man's collar and pushing him against the slot machine. " You publish that and she goes to the press with her version. And If I know the kind of scumbag you are, she wasn't the only one," he spat out, tightening his grip, getting closer to Riggs face. "How many women were there, huh? 5? 10? Dirtbags like you don't do this just once. So before you think you'll get ahead by publishing Donna's pictures, think of the repercussions that it would have for you. I mean, the DOJ would absolutely dig that shit and you'd never merge, you idiot! Because you might remember and calculate your actions, but I guarantee you however many women you did this to also remember. They remember every goddamn touch and every goddamn word you have said," Harvey swang the guy over, pushing him to fall on the chair, letting go of his neck as Riggs coughed, desperate for air.

"So what is your daughter going to think, huh? If all of a sudden women start corroborating Donna's side? Are you sure she wouldn't believe us? What about your investors?"

At Riggs attempt to stand, Harvey's hands hit his chest, causing him to fall back on the chair.

"You wanna merge? Here's the deal: you issue an IPO and you sell the majority of the stocks, you hear me?" he said, taking the picture that had fallen on the floor. "And if you ever show up at my firm again, if Donna ever does so much as hear your name, I will personally see that you are prosecuted for the hell you put people through, you son of a bitch," Harvey ended the conversation, "Give me the goddamn flash drive."

Riggs stretched out his arm, but his fist still held it shut in his hand, and he dared to look into Harvey's eyes. "You're gonna have to pry it open from my hand, like I did to Scarlet's legs," he smirked with the lowest insinuation.

Harvey felt his hatred burst out like never before, determined to make that the last sign of defiance he was willing to take. His left hand pushed Riggs neck against the back of the chair. In an adrenaline rush, purely moved by anger, so much that scream coming from the secretary sounded like a whisper, he used his thumb to press tightly on Riggs throat; and with his right hand he bent the man's arm over the chair's armrest, until a bone snap made Riggs scream in pain, dropping the flash drive on the floor.

Panting as he reckoned with his anger, Harvey picked it up quickly and stood, letting go of Riggs completely.

He finally saw the girl standing by the door. "Don't worry," Harvey said as he watched Riggs struggle to breathe, his arm twisted out of shape. "I'm done."

Holding tightly to the flashdrive, he moved to walk past her when she blocked his way.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern stamped on her face as she saw the blood on his chin.

Harvey scoffed, retrieving a card from his wallet. If she really cared about working for Riggs, she'd be asking _him_ that question, not the guy who just broke his arm.

"Call us on Monday. You deserve better," he said as he walked away.


End file.
